


Price of Memory

by ImpishTubist



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4891492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpishTubist/pseuds/ImpishTubist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the years following <i>Voyager<i>’s disastrous journey through the slipstream, Harry struggles to come to terms with the mistake that sent his crewmates to their deaths, and he finds himself torn between two lives: the one that is, and the one that might have been.</i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2375

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notluvulongtime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notluvulongtime/gifts).



> This covers the fifteen years of “Timeless” that we didn’t see, though it’s a slight AU, given the pairing. I’ve always wanted to write C/K “Timeless” fic, but never had the inspiration to do so before [Kim](http://www.kim-j-8472.livejournal.com) came along. Thanks so much for the cheerleading and the help! This wouldn’t exist without you.
> 
> Details like the characters’ birthdates, the names of Harry’s parents, etc., were taken from Memory Alpha.
> 
> * * *
> 
> “Time is the longest distance between two places.”  
>    -Tennessee Williams
> 
> * * *

When they asked him what he remembered of that day, his answer was always _nothing_.

 

The constant questions were like prodding an aching tooth, and all Harry wanted was for it to stop. He answered with a litany of _I don’t know_ or _I don’t remember_ , and eventually, it did. _Dissociative amnesia,_ the counselors decided after several rounds of fruitless questions, and the diagnosis was entered into his medical file. It helped that he had hit his head when the _Delta Flyer_ came out of the slipstream, and that the blow had been enough to render him unconscious, which made the diagnosis more believable.

 

The return to Earth had been the worst part of the journey. When the slipstream finally released them, back in the Sol system and just past the orbit of Jupiter, it did so with a violent jolt that sent Harry tumbling to the ground. He slammed his head hard on a console on the way down, and was revived briefly by a bloodied Chakotay once the _Delta Flyer_ had entered orbit around Earth. Chakotay had only had his face smashed into his own console, which broke his nose but otherwise left him uninjured. He tried to keep Harry conscious until the medical teams arrived, but failed, and Harry didn’t wake up again for two days. He hadn’t seen Chakotay since.

 

Harry wished that the physical and mental trauma _were_ enough to give him dissociative amnesia, but the truth of the matter was, he remembered every damn detail of the day. Remembered especially coming up with the calculations - the _wrong_ calculations - and transmitting them to _Voyager_. Remembered the punch-kick feeling in his gut and the cold dread that stole over him as the comm link was severed. Remembered Chakotay’s warm hands pushing him away, telling him that they couldn’t go back for the ship. Yeah, he remembered everything, to the point where if he thought about it too hard, it sent him rushing for the head so he could be sick.

 

His parents visited him every day in the hospital; stayed long past visiting hours were over. They got away with it because of who he was, because this was the only story being covered on any of the news reports, the only story on everyone’s lips. Harry had imagined their reunion countless times, had used it as a comfort on his worst days in the Delta Quadrant, and now he wished it hadn’t happened at all. He’d give all this up, if he could. If it would mean that _Voyager_ had never entered that slipstream in the first place. If it meant that everyone he had grown to care for over the past four years wasn’t dead, and that he was still there with them.

 

\----------

 

The diagnosis of dissociative amnesia wasn’t enough to keep the counselors away, as it turned out. They continued to visit him at Starfleet Medical, and when he was released from that facility, they paid him home visits.

 

 _How do you feel_? they’d ask while sitting in Harry’s childhood bedroom with him, a room he’d barely left since his parents brought him home.

 

 _Like all my friends are dead,_ he’d answer.

 

 _Survivor’s guilt,_ they’d say sagely, as though those two words were enough to solve all his anguish.

 

 _No shit_ , he’d tell them.

 

His mother was his link to the outside world, and she brought him news along with his meals. It was through her that he found out about his promotion - Starfleet was making him a lieutenant, and when he was well again, he would have his pick of any post in the Federation. She also told him of all the ceremonies happening throughout the quadrant - celebrations and memorials alike. The _Voyager_ crew was being mourned anew, but their families sought comfort in the fact that their loved ones had lived for four years longer than first believed. That they had forged on in spite of seemingly insurmountable odds. That, for the most part, they had been happy, and lived with a sense of purpose.

 

Harry’s presence was requested at Starfleet’s formal service for the _Voyager_ crew, held in San Francisco exactly one month after their return. He declined the invitation. His mother brought him lunch that day and sat on his bed with him, flipping on the holo-screen just in time to see Commander Chakotay take the stage in front of a sea of uniformed dignitaries. Harry’s stomach turned over as he took in his former commanding officer, the sole person in the galaxy who understood what it was like in his head right now. Or the only person who came close, at any rate. Chakotay, after all, hadn’t been the one to kill everyone they cared about. No wonder he hadn’t bothered to speak to Harry since their return.

 

“That poor man,” his mother said softly as Chakotay began his speech. He was stone-faced and bleary-eyed, but his voice was steady. Whenever the cameras panned over the crowd, Harry saw that everyone in attendance was misty-eyed. “The burden he must carry.”

 

“Yeah?” Harry said absently, thinking - as he did countless times a day - of Tom. He’d never been able to confirm it, but he’d long suspected that his friend been involved with Chakotay, in whatever way commitment-phobic Tom could handle. He’d lost his best friend, and that hurt like hell, but if Chakotay had lost a lover - well, no wonder he couldn’t face being in the same room as Harry.

 

“I can’t imagine,” his mother went on, shaking her head. “Knowing that you were the one to send the wrong phase corrections to the ship… he must be going through hell. He’ll probably never forgive himself for his mistake.”

 

It took a moment for Harry to process the words and figure out exactly what his mother was saying.

 

“What do you mean, _his_ mistake?” he asked, trepidation pooling in his stomach.

 

“Oh, honey.” She rubbed his arm. “Of course, you don’t remember. It’s just - that’s why you were in the _Delta Flyer_ in the first place. You were supposed to go ahead of _Voyager_ , and one of you fed them calculations while the other piloted the shuttle. But your commander got one of his calculations wrong, and, well…”

 

She trailed off. Harry felt lightheaded.

 

“Computer, turn off the broadcast,” he ordered woodenly. He set aside the soup she had brought him, untouched. “Please go, Mom.”

 

“Harry -”

 

“I need to be alone. Just _go_.”

 

When she had retreated, Harry sat up in bed and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t believe this. Of all the stupid things - why had Chakotay gone and told them _that,_ of all things? Why had he accepted the blame for the most horrid thing Harry had ever done? His career was shot for good, that was for sure. Starfleet wouldn’t keep a man on who they thought had sent an entire starship to its demise. And no piloting school in the Federation worth its salt would accept him on as an instructor, not with a blunder like that on his record. His life was over, the way that Harry’s should have been.

 

Harry pushed himself out of bed, grabbed some clothes off the floor, and stumbled off towards the bathroom.

 

\----------

 

Chakotay was staying in an apartment in San Francisco not thirty minutes from the Academy. Harry had to wait until the evening for a spot on one of the cross-continent shuttles, and he arrived at Chakotay’s building just after nine. He had to ask the concierge for Chakotay’s apartment number, and the man was about to refuse - but then recognition stole over his face, and Harry sighed inwardly. Their faces had been splashed all over the media upon their return. Of course he would be recognized here, especially since he was asking after Chakotay. But at least it worked to his advantage, and moments later he was speeding up to the ninth floor in one of the lifts.

 

Harry pressed the chime twice on Chakotay’s door. As the silence stretched on, a sick feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. Maybe Chakotay was out with all those admirals and dignitaries he had been addressing earlier in the day. Perhaps he had family in the area - _did_ he have living family? Harry didn’t know. What seemed clear, though, was that Chakotay was getting on with his life. And Harry was standing still, adrift, completely alone. The only life he wanted was back in the Delta Quadrant, a place he’d fought so hard to leave. How was that for irony?

 

The door slid open abruptly, startling him out of his thoughts, and he stared at Chakotay. Dressed in civvies with his hair damp from a recent shower, Chakotay looked… diminished, somehow. Harry had only ever seen him in his Starfleet uniform or his Maquis leathers, and sometimes in the boxing outfits he wore to the holodeck. Never in something casual like this, when he wasn’t playing a role of some kind. He was just… Chakotay.

 

“Lieutenant,” Chakotay greeted after a beat of silence.

 

“Don’t call me that,” Harry said.

 

“Okay.” Chakotay considered him for a moment. “Do you want to -”

 

“You took the fall for me?” Harry interrupted, anger overriding his surprise.

 

“Harry -”

 

“ _Did you take the fall for me?_ ”

 

“Look, I thought -”

 

“I can’t believe you would be so _stupid_!”

 

“I’d really like to be able to finish a sentence here, Harry,” Chakotay said mildly. He gestured inside the apartment. “Come in. Please. You’ll wake the neighbors.”

 

Harry considered refusing, but then Chakotay might not to talk to him altogether, so he grudgingly stepped into the apartment. The doors hissed shut behind him.

 

“I thought you didn’t remember any of it,” Chakotay told him. He gave a small shrug. “The doctors said you had amnesia, and I thought, well, what was the harm? I’d tell them the whole story, but switch our roles at the end. I entered the calculations, you piloted the shuttle.”

 

“That makes no damn sense and you know it. You’re the best pilot we have, aside from -” Harry broke off, feeling nauseated as he thought of Tom again. The blood suddenly fled from his head. Chakotay gripped his elbow, steered him into a chair. “They won’t believe it.”

 

“They did,” Chakotay said gently.

 

“Your career -”

 

“So they won’t put me on a vessel ever again. As though I have any desire to go into space anytime soon. Though I think that has more to do with my past as a Maquis than anything else. They were pretty understanding, all things considered, when I told them about transmitting the wrong phase corrections.” Chakotay shrugged again. “I thought it would be better, if you didn’t remember, to not burden you with knowing that…”

 

He trailed off.

 

“I remember it all just fine, thanks,” Harry snapped at him. “You can stop trying to _protect_ me.”

 

He spat the word. Chakotay considered him for a moment, then walked over to the replicator and ordered two cups of tea. Harry took in his surroundings. His own room looked much as it had eight years ago, filled with memorabilia from his interests at that time. All of his belongings had gone down with _Voyager_. He had come home with only the uniform on his back. Chakotay’s apartment, however, looked little different from his lodgings on _Voyager_.

 

“I’ve had this place since I first started teaching at the Academy,” Chakotay said, noticing Harry’s stare as he came back over with two steaming cups of tea in hand. He gave one to Harry. “My sister took over its upkeep when I joined the Maquis. I think she hoped I would see sense and return one day. And when we were declared lost, she just couldn’t give it up. Worked out well, I guess. I have everything I need, though I can’t wear most of the clothes I left behind. Turns out I’ve gained some weight over the years. Can’t fit into most of my shirts.”

 

He gave an awkward, self-deprecating little smile.

 

“I don’t understand,” Harry said softly, dropping his gaze to his mug. “What’s going to happen now?”

 

Chakotay pulled up a chair. “They’re giving me a desk job. Officially, I’ve been cleared of any wrong-doing. Unofficially, I’m sure they plan to never put me on the deck of a ship again. We are at war, after all. So I’ll keep this place and stay in Starfleet, and keep my ear to the ground in case any news about our ship comes through the grapevine.”

 

Harry looked at him. Chakotay was so _calm_ about it all. As though he’d just misfiled some paperwork on accident, rather than witnessed the death of his crew. And taken the fall for it, to boot.

 

“How do you do it?” Harry asked finally. “How do you even manage to get out of bed?”

 

Chakotay’s features twisted for a moment, and the brief flash of pain almost caused Harry to look away again. “I do it for you.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s my job to look out for you.”

 

Harry snorted. “No offense, but you aren’t my commanding officer anymore. And it’s not like you’ve -”

 

He stopped himself before he could get the rest of the sentence out, but Chakotay seemed to pick up on his meaning well enough. He looked ashamed.

 

“Yeah,” he said quietly, and then he took a sip of tea. “I know. I should’ve come to see you, but I didn’t know what to say.”

 

“ _You_ didn’t know what to say?” Harry was suddenly angry again. “ _I’m_ the one who killed everyone we cared about!”

 

“No,” Chakotay said swiftly. “You don’t know that.”

 

“Oh, for God’s sake -”

 

“No, listen to me, Harry,” Chakotay said, suddenly earnest. “This is what I wanted to come see you about eventually. We might as well talk about it now. You’ve got your choice of any posting in Starfleet right now - and I think you should take one of the deep-space missions. The _Imogen_ and the _Lichfield,_ for instance, would be good posts. Anything that’s out on the fringes of our borders.”

 

Harry took a moment to process this - then, understanding hit him. “You think I could look for _Voyager_.”

 

“Yes,” Chakotay said. “I’m not convinced they’re dead. It’s entirely possible that the slipstream damaged them heavily when it threw them out, but that doesn’t mean they were destroyed. Not unless they were thrown into the path of a planet and crash-landed. But the odds of that are so slim they aren’t even worth considering. I think they’re still out there - and, with any luck, closer to home than we could have imagined.”

 

He got up and went over to his desk, where he retrieved a PADD and brought it over to Harry.

 

“I’ve worked out the calculations, based on when they were thrown out of the slipstream. Given our speed at the time, I think that they were only a few parsecs from the Alpha Quadrant. We don’t have any ships out that far, of course, but it’s entirely possible they’re at least within sensor range. And, if not, maybe a few modifications to a ship’s existing sensors would do the trick.”

 

“Starfleet’s looking for them, too,” Harry pointed out slowly, but he was quickly warming to the idea. Why hadn’t he thought of it himself?

 

Chakotay snorted softly. “I’d prefer to have one of us on the front lines, so to speak. Wouldn’t you?”

 

Harry nodded.

 

“Good,” Chakotay said with a decisive nod. “Let me know what ship you end up deciding on. And if you need a reference – well, I can’t guarantee that my word will carry that much weight, but I’ll do my best.”

 

He gave another one of those awkward little smiles, and Harry wanted to hit him. Everyone they knew was dead, and here he was chatting about Harry’s _job prospects._ Instead, Harry took a long sip of the hot tea, wrestling down his anger. Chakotay did the same, and then he peered at Harry.

 

“How are you doing?” he asked after a long silence.

 

“How do you think?” Harry snapped. Chakotay nodded.

 

“They have you seeing any counselors?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Good.”

 

Harry snorted. “As though it helps. It’s not as though they can bring back everyone I killed.”

 

“You didn’t kill anyone, Harry,” Chakotay said quietly. “Even if the ship is truly gone, it’s not your fault. The captain approved your idea, and the crew accepted the risks. It’s not as though you did anything deliberately.”

 

“You didn’t approve the idea. You thought it was too risky,” Harry snapped. Chakotay looked surprised, so Harry elaborated. “The captain told me. I think she was trying to reassure me, trying to show me she had absolute faith in my plan. Turns out, she should have listened to you.”

 

“I’m sorry she shared that with you,” Chakotay said finally. “It wasn’t anything against you, Harry.”

 

“Yeah.” Harry finished off his tea, then got up and placed the mug back in the replicator for recycling. “You seem to be handling things pretty well.”

 

It came out harsh, which he supposed he had intended. A flinch passed across Chakotay’s features before they went blank again.

 

“Yeah, well, those meds they provide are pretty strong,” he said quietly. Harry blinked at him.

 

“They’ve got you on something?”

 

Chakotay shrugged. “Not as much as I was on to begin with. I was pretty much catatonic that first week. My sister had to come stay with me full-time. I can get by most days without anything now, but I couldn’t face that speech this morning without something. I don’t remember much of what I said, to be honest. Came back here right after and slept off most of the dosage, but I guess it’s still lingering.”

 

“It was a good speech,” Harry said, when he couldn’t think of anything else to say to that.

 

“Was it? Thanks.” Chakotay peered at him for a moment. “Were you there? Sorry, I really don’t remember…”

 

“No, I watched from home. You think you couldn’t face that crowd?” Harry shook his head. “Listen, I should probably go.”

 

Not that he had anywhere to be, but what else was there to talk about? Chakotay nodded and rose, walking with him to the door.

 

“Door’s always open to you, Harry.”

 

“Thanks,” Harry said, knowing that he didn’t mean it. Chakotay was positively placid right now, but that would change when the remnants of the drugs finally left his system.

 

But Chakotay caught his elbow, holding him back as he turned to leave. “I mean it, Harry. You’re welcome here any time. Day or night, I don’t care.”

 

“Yeah, you do.” Harry pulled his arm from Chakotay’s grasp. “But thanks anyway, Commander.”

 

He turned and left without another word, the phantom touch of Chakotay’s hand lingering on his arm all the way back to the shuttleport.


	2. 2375-2376

The _Imogen_ ’s mission took her to System G63, a star cluster on the very edge of explored space. The boundary to the Delta was almost twenty thousand light years away – the closest Harry was ever going to get to it on a Starfleet vessel.

 

He threw himself into his duties on _Imogen_ , doing his best to ignore the stares and the whispers and the curious crewmembers. Now he knew how Tom felt, he thought at one point, when he first came aboard _Voyager_. How Tom had managed to keep cheerfully plugging away despite it all, Harry would never know. He was constantly fighting the urge to throw a punch every time he caught someone gawking at him. Contrary to Tom’s experience, though, _everyone_ wanted to get to know Harry. They wanted to shake his hand and hear his stories about _Voyager_ , and they asked about every one of his former crewmates. Harry started eating his meals at odd times, when he knew the galley would be empty, or simply taking his meal breaks in his quarters so he wouldn’t have to interact with any curious - if well-meaning - crewmembers.

 

A portion of the vast Hirogen relay station network was less than five thousand light years from his new ship’s position, and the Federation now knew about this network thanks to the various debriefings that Starfleet put both Harry and Chakotay through. Part of _Imogen_ ’s mission was to study this network from within Federation borders, which was mostly why Harry chose to sign on with her. _Lichfield_ had more advanced instruments, it was true, but that ship was exploring closer to the Beta Quadrant than the Delta. Not only was the location inconvenient, it was also far too close to Borg space for Harry’s liking. He’d had enough encounters with them for a lifetime.

 

Harry hated his new assignment. There was some distant, detached part of himself that realized he would have killed for an assignment like this back in his Academy days. That even the Harry who had first stepped aboard _Voyager_ would also have found himself at home on _Imogen_. The crew was kind, brilliant, easy-going, and accepting. They created their own entertainment outside of the holodeck - an improv group put on shows, a quartet provided music on a weekly basis. If Harry had brought his clarinet, he would have been welcomed - but that had gone down with _Voyager_ , and the one he’d left behind at his parents’ house he couldn’t bring himself to play.

 

He _should_ have been enjoying himself, he _should_ have been grateful for such a perfect match, but all he felt was anger and misery. He didn’t want _Imogen_ , he wanted _Voyager_. He couldn’t step foot on the holodeck anymore, it reminded him too much of Tom. His shifts on the bridge were agony. There were no familiar faces, no long-running jokes, no Chakotay in the first officer’s chair. He’d spent four years staring at the back of his commander’s head. Now everything was just _wrong._

 

HIs parents sent him letters every other day. Harry responded to every third one, if they were lucky. Sometimes more than a week passed before he got around to writing them. Partly this was because he was so busy, between his own duties and analyzing data from the network in case _Voyager_ had managed to send a coded message through. Mostly, though, he just couldn’t bring himself to write back to them. He had nothing to say that would make them happy, and he wasn’t good at lying. Certainly not good enough to get it past the people who had raised him from birth, at any rate.

 

Chakotay kept in touch as well, though he didn’t seem to be dissuaded by the fact that Harry never wrote back to him. His notes were always short, clipped, to-the-point. _Safe travels, Lieutenant,_ was the very first message Harry received from him, sent on the eve of _Imogen_ ’s launch.

 

 _They’ve made me chair of Tactics at the Academy. Not bad for a desk job,_ he wrote one morning three weeks into Harry’s assignment.

 

 _I hope the food there is better than what they serve here in the cafeteria. I don’t remember it being this awful when I was a cadet. I’d kill for some of Neelix’s cooking right now_ , Chakotay wrote on another occasion. Harry had the computer read the note aloud to him while he was shaving, and he accidentally nicked himself when he couldn’t stifle a huff of sudden laughter.

 

Harry didn’t write back because he had nothing to report. Six months into _Imogen_ ’s mission, and he still hadn’t picked up any sign of _Voyager_ – not one message through the relay station, not a distress beacon, nothing. He even spent hours poring over other messages from dozens of alien species that came through the relay station, using the computer’s database to translate the ones that were in known languages and hazard a guess at the ones that weren’t. Maybe if _Voyager_ wasn’t talking, someone else was talking _about_ her instead. Coming across a starship from another part of the galaxy was fairly noteworthy. If anyone had seen _Voyager_ , they would be talking about it.

 

Harry eventually started sending Chakotay updates on his progress, because that was why he had taken this assignment in the first place and he owed his former commanding officer that much. After all Chakotay had done for him, the least he could do was tell him what was going on. Actually, the least he could do was find their missing ship, but that was proving to be a fruitless search and the ache of his failure ate away at Harry from the inside out. He couldn’t even stomach his meals, most days, and what food he did force down sometimes made an unpleasant reappearance later on.

 

All he wanted to do was sleep. He wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a decade, and wake up again when this was all over. If it ever _would_ be over.

 

 _Have been monitoring network for messages. Nothing yet_ , he wrote finally to Chakotay one morning, after spending an hour trying to figure out what to say.

 

Chakotay wrote back again that afternoon. _What kind of monitoring?_

_Checking for anything with a Starfleet encryption. Scanning for distress beacons. Monitoring messages from other species to see if anyone has been talking about a lost starship from another quadrant._

_Good work, Lieutenant_ , Chakotay wrote, and Harry hated him for it. How could he say that, when Harry had proved to be such an utter failure? First he’d lost their ship, and now he couldn’t fucking _find_ it.

 

But Chakotay wasn’t discouraged. He kept writing regardless, even when Harry had no good news to report. His messages were always simple. Usually they were nothing more than _Good morning_ or _Take care of yourself today_ , but Harry grew to look forward to waking up in the morning, just because he would more often than not receive a message from Chakotay. He even came to anticipate those messages more than the ones from his parents.

 

Three more months passed in the same manner. Harry worked on his official duties during the day and his unofficial ones during his off-hours. There was some talk of making him a lieutenant commander, and he blanched at the idea when he heard it. Maybe they caught on to his hesitation, because the talk eventually died down. His commanding officer knew about Harry’s unofficial project, he was sure, but she never said anything about it. It was amazing the kind of latitude you could get when people pitied you.

 

 _Imogen_ ’s mission was only a year long, and by the end of it, she was nearly a month away from Earth. On the eve of the start of their return trip, Harry came back to his quarters after a twelve-hour shift to find a message light blinking on his computer. Expecting yet another letter from his parents, he ignored it. He showered and changed, contemplated eating dinner, then dismissed the thought. Sighing, he went over to his computer station and brought up the message. It was from Chakotay.

 

 _Call me when you get this_ , was all it said.

 

Heart in his throat, Harry did just that. He wondered what kind of terrible news Chakotay had for him that necessitated a call.

 

“Harry,” Chakotay greeted when he answered the call, his image popping up on Harry’s screen. He gave a warm smile. “It’s good to see you.”

 

“Thanks, Commander.” Chakotay was back in uniform, looking little different from the man who had piloted the _Delta Flyer_ home. There was more silver in his hair, which had been cut short again to comply with Starfleet standards, and the uniform he wore was in the latest style, but he exuded confidence and authority from every pore. “What’s going on?”

 

For a moment, Chakotay looked confused. Then, his face cleared, and he laughed. “Nothing, Harry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you. I just wanted to see how you were doing, and wish you luck on your journey home.”

 

“No offense, sir, but you could have just written,” Harry said dryly, relaxing by inches as he realized that Chakotay hadn’t called with bad news after all.

 

“I avoid writing letters, if I can. Audio messages are easier.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I speak Standard better than I write it,” Chakotay said, almost sheepishly. “Weird, I know. It’s one thing to put together a dry report, or to write a couple of sentences about your progress. It’s another entirely to write a letter, at least for me. I prefer audio messages.”

 

“Standard’s not your first language?” Harry asked in surprise, though really, he should have realized this. He’d always known that Chakotay’s people were from Dorvan V, a planet where Standard was not the native language.

 

“It’s not even my second,” Chakotay admitted. “But I knew I needed to learn it to get into the Academy, so here we are. I started teaching myself when I was - oh, I suppose I was about nine.”

 

“That’s impressive.”

 

“Thanks, Harry.” Chakotay was quiet for a moment, considering him. “You okay?”

 

Harry shrugged. “Fine.”

 

“Harry -”

 

“Can we not do this?” Harry asked in exasperation. “What do you want from me, Commander? It’s not okay. It’s never going to be okay. I _killed_ them!”

 

“Harry.” Chakotay made an aborted move toward the screen, as though he wanted to reach out for Harry before realizing where he was. He laced his fingers together and rested them on the desk in front of him instead. “Harry, you listen to me. It was _not your fault_. Anyone could have made that mistake in your place, including me. Most of us wouldn’t have managed those calculations in the first place.”

 

Harry got to his feet and paced away from the desk, unable to look at Chakotay any longer. “But it was _my_ idea, it was _my_ responsibility, and I failed them all!”

 

“Harry,” Chakotay said, a pleading note in his voice. “Harry, come back over here. Please.”

 

Harry didn’t say anything, didn’t move from his spot by the porthole, and finally he heard Chakotay sigh.

 

“I’m sorry,” Chakotay said quietly. “I didn’t want to upset you, I really didn’t. I just wanted to say that I hope you have a good journey home. I -”

 

He broke off. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache start to form behind his eyes.

 

“You still living in San Francisco?” he asked finally.

 

“Same place,” Chakotay said. Harry nodded to himself.

 

“We’ll be disembarking there when we get back, at the port. If you’re around, I’ll stop by on my way back to my parents’.”

 

“Do that,” Chakotay said quickly, sounding so damn _relieved_ that Harry didn’t know what to make of those two words. “I’d - it would be good to see you. We can discuss next steps, if you want.”

 

Harry nodded, his mind and his anger clearing as he latched on to a new course of action. There were other deep-space ships, other assignments. He would get out here again, and soon, and he would be able to resume his search.

 

\----------

 

It was raining in San Francisco.

 

Harry stepped off the shuttlecraft, carrying the smaller of his two bags over his shoulder while he held the other in his left hand. He paused for a moment on the gangway. He didn’t know why he was surprised at the weather – it had been a bumpy ride down from _Imogen_ for this very reason. But it was just so _surreal_ to be planetside once again after a year in space; disconcerting to breathe real air and feel actual rain on his face.

 

He suddenly became aware that he was blocking the way and moved down the ramp, finally stepping foot on solid ground a moment later. Now the rain was just becoming irritating, and he cast about for a hovercab.

 

“Harry!”

 

He turned, looking around, but it was almost impossible to make anything out in the darkness and the silvery gloom of the rain. A figure approached him.

 

Harry blinked water out of his eyes. “Commander?”

 

“I have a name, Harry,” Chakotay said, sounding amused. He stepped forward, his features becoming more defined as he drew closer. He took the largest of Harry’s bags from his hand.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

 “Giving you a ride,” Chakotay said. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

 

The hovercar was parked just around the corner, and Harry slid into it gratefully.

 

“I didn’t know you had a ‘car,” he said.

 

“It’s my sister’s, actually,” Chakotay admitted. “I traded her for babysitting duties. She lends me the ‘car for a night and I watch Vivek for a day.”

 

“Vivek?”

 

“My nephew. He’s four. Ready?”

 

“You’ll have to apologize to your sister for me,” Harry said as they got underway, Chakotay easing off the ground and into traffic. “I’m sort of leaking all over her seats.”

 

Chakotay laughed, and after a moment Harry joined in. His lips felt stiff and the sound that emerged was a rusty approximation of a chuckle. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed at all. As they drove, he felt his taut muscles ease, and a calm washed over him that he hadn’t felt in over a year. Chakotay’s presence was a balm, familiar and steady, commanding even when he wasn’t in uniform. At his side once more, Harry finally started to relax.

 

“When’s your transport home?” Chakotay asked.

 

“Not for another three hours,” Harry said.

 

“Have you eaten?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“When?”

 

Harry had to think about that one. “Eleven hundred?”

 

Chakotay snorted. “So not since this morning? Well, you’re in luck. I’ve got dinner stewing at home. Should be ready by the time we get there.”

 

“Well, that’s convenient.”

 

Chakotay glanced at him long enough to flash him a mischievous smile, and inexplicably, Harry flushed. He was grateful that in the dim light of the car, Chakotay wouldn’t be able to tell.

 

“It just so happens I made far too much, and I won’t be able to finish it on my own,” Chakotay said, turning his eyes back to the road. “You’re more than welcome to join me.”

 

“Very generous of you.”

 

“I thought so.”

 

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to Chakotay’s apartment building. Harry managed to stay awake for the whole drive, though it was a close one. He’d nearly nodded off about fifteen minutes ago, before Chakotay started up another thread of conversation that he latched on to.

 

“I can take my bags, Chakotay,” Harry said in exasperation as he got out of the ‘car to once again find that Chakotay already had his large bag slung over his shoulder.

 

“I’ve got this one, you’ve got that one. See? Works out well,” Chakotay said. He turned and strode up to the front door. If Harry didn’t know any better, he would have said there was a spring in Chakotay’s step. He seemed almost excited.

 

No. He was _happy_.

 

Harry faltered for a moment, confused, and in that amount of time Chakotay was already in the building and the doors slid shut behind him. Shaking himself, Harry hurried after him, stepping out of the rain and into the warmth of shelter.

 

Chakotay’s apartment was little changed from the last time Harry had been there, not that he remembered much from that hectic visit. The artwork on the walls - unfamiliar desert landscapes he assumed to be paintings of Dorvan - hadn’t been moved, blankets in comforting hues of ochre and red were folded neatly over the backs of the chairs, and it still smelled faintly of spices.

 

“Put your bags anywhere you like,” Chakotay said. The lights came up automatically when he entered the room, and he put Harry’s large bag on the sofa. “Make yourself at home. I need to check on the food.”

 

He disappeared into the kitchen. Harry set down his bag, rubbing his shoulder absently, and walked over to the wall of windows opposite. There was a door that led to a balcony, and he opened it to step outside. The overhang protected him from the rain, and he stared sightlessly at the city lights until a hand on his shoulder brought him out of his daze.

 

“Did you miss the city?” Chakotay asked.

 

“Not exactly,” Harry said. “It’s just… good to be on solid ground again.”

 

He hadn’t realized until he stepped foot on _Imogen_ that going into space again was a bigger deal to him than he’d originally thought. He’d suffered through a couple of panic attacks those first few days, in fact, though at the time he thought he’d been dying, until the med bay explained to him what was going on. He wasn’t looking forward to yet another deep-space assignment, but what other choice was there? He couldn’t look for _Voyager_ from Earth.

 

“I can imagine.” Chakotay led him back inside. The small table had been set, and Harry sat down while Chakotay went and fetched the food. Harry picked up the open bottle of wine in the middle of the table and filled the two glasses.

 

“I thought you didn’t drink,” he said when Chakotay came back into the room, carrying the stew.

 

“I don’t very often,” Chakotay said. He gave a smile. “But I can make an exception for your first night back.”

 

He raised his glass to Harry, who laughed again and shook his head.

 

“So, you’ve got a nephew?” Harry asked as he dug in.

 

“For the moment,” Chakotay said, then laughed at Harry’s momentarily confused expression. “Sorry, I mean, I _only_ have a nephew. Aiyana’s hoping to have at least three kids, so I’m sure another will be on the way soon.”

 

“Your sister?”

 

Chakotay nodded, smiling fondly. “She’s three years younger than I am.”

 

“She your only family?”

 

“I have a cousin in Arizona, but other than that…” Chakotay trailed off, shrugging.

 

They talked for a while longer about Chakotay’s family and childhood. Even after that conversation died down, Harry wanted to delay the inevitable line of questioning and all thoughts of his most recent failure, so he asked, “How’ve things been back here?”

 

“Recovery from the war is our biggest concern,” Chakotay said. “We’re still calculating the losses. Some we might never know, like the Breen. It’s looking like on the order of thirty million Federation citizens died, and over eight hundred million Cardassians.”

 

Harry stared at him. “Eight _hundred_ million?”

 

Chakotay nodded solemnly. “By the time this is all over, it could be much more. I have no idea. To say that Starfleet’s been rattled by the Dominion is an understatement. Having the Changelings come as far as Earth and infiltrate us has them completely rewriting all our security measures.”

 

“Doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”

 

“Not on paper, it doesn’t,” Chakotay said, but he sounded uneasy.

 

They ate in silence for a bit, until Harry thought to ask, “What about the Maquis? Have you heard from any of them? Is Starfleet going to put them on trial?”

 

Chakotay’s movements stilled for a moment. Finally, he said, “No. In light of everything, I think Starfleet felt as though that was in poor taste.”

 

Harry looked at him blankly. Chakotay met his gaze, then sighed.

 

“You haven’t heard, have you?” He shook his head. “No, of course not. Starfleet kept it pretty quiet. Wouldn’t want it getting out that it turned on its own citizens. The Maquis are dead, Harry. Slaughtered, most of them. Except for the ones who were in prison, and me.”

 

Harry gaped at him. “ _When_?”

 

“Couple of years ago now. Just before our return, actually. I found out about it when you were still recovering in the hospital.”

 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

 

“What was there to say?” Chakotay folded up his napkin and tossed it on the table, then took a long swallow of wine. It was the first time since their return that he saw Chakotay anything close to upset. “You had other things to worry about, and it wasn’t as though you could help. You can’t bring them back.”

 

“You didn’t kill them, Chakotay,” Harry said.

 

“Isn’t that a familiar line?” Chakotay reached for the wine. “I might as well have. More?”

 

Appetites lost and dinner abandoned, they took the bottle of wine and their glasses and went out onto the balcony. The rain had stopped. Harry leaned his forearms on the damp railing and looked out over the city. The sky was clearing. He could see the lights that stretched all the way to the bay, now.

 

“What do you plan to do next?” Chakotay asked finally.

 

“I’ve got a couple of weeks of leave, and then I’m off on another assignment. I signed up for the _Bengal_ , this time. They’re headed to the Jorian sector.”

 

Chakotay nodded to himself. “That’s a good ship. You’ll do well there.”

 

“I don’t care about doing well.”

 

“I know.” Chakotay sighed, giving him a sad smile. “What happened to the ambitious ensign I knew?”

 

Harry didn’t dignify that with a response. He took a long swallow of wine instead. His head was starting to pound, and he had to make his way to the shuttleport in less than an hour.

 

Chakotay refilled his own glass, took a sip, and said, “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

 

Harry looked at him. “What?”

 

“You don’t have to take this assignment. Or any assignment. You don’t have to keep doing this to yourself.”

 

“Are you telling me to give up?” Harry asked in disbelief.

 

“I’m asking you to stop killing yourself over this,” Chakotay said quietly. “You have to have lost, what, fifteen pounds since I last saw you? More? You probably aren’t sleeping, and you’re making yourself sick over this whole situation. It’s just – it’s not worth it, Harry.”

 

“Not worth it?” Harry hissed. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Our crewmembers _aren’t worth it_?”

 

“That’s not what I said –“

 

“It damn well is!” Harry snapped at him. “Everything worked out all right for you, didn’t it? You’ve got a comfortable job at the Academy, you’ve got your apartment, you have your _life_. No more living on the run, no more serving as the captain’s _lapdog_. Yeah, I can see why you would want me to stop looking for them. Do you have any idea what it’s like –”

 

He broke off abruptly as Chakotay backhanded him.

 

“That’s enough, Lieutenant,” Chakotay said in a low, taut voice. Misery etched itself into the lines on his face, and he turned away.

 

 _There it is_ , Harry thought. There was the anger that had been absent a year ago. There was the agony and the sorrow. Relief so powerful it almost made him weep hit him like a wave. He wasn’t alone in this. Chakotay felt the same way, felt the pain as acutely as he did.

 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted as Chakotay moved to go back inside. Chakotay paused. “I didn’t – I shouldn’t have said that.”

 

“But you did mean it,” Chakotay said. “It’s fine, Lieutenant. I can see why you’d feel that way.”

 

“Please don’t call me that,” Harry pleaded. Over the past year, he’d gotten used to the new title and didn’t have the knee-jerk reaction to hating it that he once did. But on Chakotay’s lips, it was just _wrong_. He didn’t want to be a title to Chakotay, he wanted –

 

It hit him with such a startling clarity that he swayed on the spot. Chakotay moved toward the door again, and reflexively Harry grabbed his arm, gripping it with a strength he realized distantly must have been bruising. Chakotay turned to look at him, surprised, and Harry kissed him.

 

Chakotay froze, lips cold and unresponsive, and after a moment Harry pulled away.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Too much wine.”

 

“Yeah,” Chakotay rasped. Then he gripped Harry by the upper arms, pushed him against the glass window behind them, and sealed their mouths together.

 

Made clumsy by the wine and his own jittery nerves, Harry’s back hit the window and he couldn’t get his feet properly under him - but then, Chakotay was holding him pressed against the glass so tightly that it hardly mattered. Chakotay’s tongue swept past his parted lips and he saw bursts of light behind his eyelids, his knees turning to water. _Jesus_. He grabbed two fistfuls of the man’s shirt, hauling him closer until their hips were flush -

 

\- And Chakotay jerked away, though not before Harry felt his arousal. They regarded one another for a moment, chests heaving, until Chakotay finally whispered, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have -”

 

“ _Don’t_ ,” Harry growled. He curled a hand around the back of Chakotay’s neck and pulled him in again.

 

Chakotay only made the barest sound of protest before giving in entirely and surrendering himself to the kiss. He tasted of wine and spices, and he trembled under Harry’s hands, his muscles taut with tension.

 

A chime sounded from inside the apartment, and Chakotay drew away again.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” he said breathlessly, pulling Harry’s hands from around his neck. “That’s - that’s the secure line. I have to get it.”

 

He went back into the apartment. Harry stayed out on the balcony, the sudden return to reality dousing him like cold water. He scrubbed a hand over his face and shivered in the rapidly-cooling night air. What had he done? What was he thinking? This was _Chakotay_. God, there was a time when he would sooner have shit himself on _Voyager_ ’s bridge rather than admit to harboring the secret, fleeting thought that his commander was a very attractive man…

 

“Harry.”

 

He spun around. Chakotay was standing there again, looking more or less composed. His face was grave.

 

“I have to go down to Headquarters. What time is your shuttle?”

 

Harry checked his chronometer. “It leaves in half an hour.”

 

“Come on, then. I’ll drop you at the shuttleport on my way.”

 

Chakotay changed into his uniform and then sped them both over to the shuttleport. Their goodbyes were perfunctory - Chakotay said he’d check in on Harry’s progress every few weeks, Harry promised he would actually respond this time - and then they were off on their separate ways again.


	3. 2376-2379

_Stardate: 53260_

_To: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_  
_From: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_

_Three years in space. What the hell did I get myself into?_

 

 

_Stardate: 53260_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_

_Bit late for second thoughts, isn’t it? Your ship left the Sol system two days ago._

 

 

_Stardate: 53260_

_To: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_  
_From: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_

_Don’t remind me. Asshole._

 

 

_Stardate: 53260_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_

_Miss you too, Harry._

 

 

_****_

_Stardate: 53447.2_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_

_Progress report?_

 

 

_Stardate: 53447.2_

_To: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_  
_From: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_

_Man, when you said you didn’t like writing letters, you weren’t kidding._

 

 

_Stardate: 53447.2_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_

_Sorry. How are things going? You doing okay?_

 

 

_Stardate: 53447.2_

_To: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_  
_From: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_

_Don’t be sorry. I was only giving you a hard time. Nothing to report right now. We had a malfunction in engineering our first week out here, and it completely fried the sensor grid. I haven’t been able to do anything remotely related to our little project._  

 

 

_Stardate: 53447.2_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_

_You didn’t answer my other questions._

 

 

_Stardate: 53447.2_

_To: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_  
_From: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_

_Good night, Commander._

 

 

***

 

_Stardate: 53896_

_To: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_  
_From: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_

_Heard about the fire in San Francisco. You okay?_

 

 

_Stardate: 53896_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_

_I’m fine. Fire hit the docks, not our offices. Hell of a thing to watch, though._

 

_****_

 

_Stardate: 54011_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_

_Heard some ramblings through the grapevine today. Seems as though there are a couple of admirals who are starting to voice the opinion that maybe the search for_ Voyager _should end within the next couple of months._

_Rumblings, I mean. I hate this language sometimes._

 

 

_Stardate: 54012_

_To: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_  
_From: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_

_Bastards. It hasn’t even been two years yet._

_“Ramblings through the grapevine.” I’ll have to remember that one._

 

_****_

 

_Stardate: 54992.1_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_

_Sorry I missed your messages last night. Retirement party for a colleague. Send me the data you collected, but use an encrypted channel. I’ll see if I can commandeer one of the labs to analyze it further, make sure it actually came from a Starfleet vessel._

 

 

_Stardate: 54992.1_

_To: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_  
_From: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_

_Forget it. False alarm. We were picking up a nearby ship’s signal, not something from beyond our borders. Fuck this ship._

 

 

_Stardate: 54992.1_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_

_Do you want to talk?_

 

 

_Stardate: 54992.1_

_To: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_  
_From: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_

_No._

 

_****_

 

_Stardate: 55013.4_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_

_Admiral Paris stopped by my office today. Now even he’s talking about abandoning the search. I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon, but the fact that he’s even talking about it now makes my blood boil. Son of a bitch. No wonder Tom couldn’t even talk about him._

 

 

_Stardate: 55015.6_

_To: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_  
_From: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_

_I never said this in person because I couldn’t, but I’m sorry about Tom._

 

 

_Stardate: 55015.6_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_

_Why are you sorry about Tom?_

 

 

_Stardate: 55015.9_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_

_We weren’t involved, Harry. Have you thought that all this time?_

 

 

_Stardate: 55016.7_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_

_Harry?_

 

 

_Stardate: 55016.8_

_To: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_  
_From: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_

_I did wonder why you were so willing to talk to the man who killed him. Makes sense now._

_Stardate: 55016.8_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_

_I talk to you because I like you, and because we have a common goal, and because I’d be lost without you._

_Stardate: 55016.8_

_To: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_  
_From: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_

_Same here._

 

 

_****_

 

_Stardate: 55897_

_To: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_  
_From: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_

_I picked up some interesting readings this afternoon. I’m sending them along in a separate transmission, encrypted as instructed. Let me know if your lab confirms them as coming from a Starfleet vessel._

 

 

_Stardate: 55898_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_

_Analysis is negative._

 

_****_

 

_Stardate: 56037_

_To: Lieutenant Harry Kim, U.S.S. Bengal_  
_From: Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Academy_  
_Format: audio file_

_“Hi, Harry. This was getting to be too much to write out, so I decided to do this instead. Besides, I thought you might want to hear this news from me in person. As much as this can be considered “in person,” anyway. Starfleet has decided to let the search for_ Voyager _play out for two more years. They seem to feel that six years of searching is more than enough time. After that, if_ Voyager _hasn’t been found, they will be declared officially lost, and the crew considered deceased._

_I know it would be useless to tell you that it’s not your fault and that you shouldn’t blame yourself, so I’ll just say this:_ Bengal _is due back in port in two months. I’m looking forward to seeing you then. Take care of yourself.”_

 

\----------

 

It didn’t take Harry long to pack up his cabin. He’d only brought the essentials with him on _Bengal_ \- clothes, mostly, and his clarinet, which his mother had insisted on. It had sat untouched these three years, but he wouldn’t tell her that. He didn’t start packing until they were back in port, locked in orbit around Earth while shuttles started carrying the crew to the surface. Non-essential personnel who weren’t continuing on with the _Bengal_ departed first. Harry, as one of the senior staff and head of a department, would be one of the last to leave. His shuttle was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.

 

His door chimed, and he called, “Come!” without looking up from his bag.

 

“Well, that didn’t take you long.”

 

Harry’s head snapped up, and he grinned. He dropped the shirt he’d been folding and walked over to Chakotay, offering his hand.

 

“Couldn’t wait this time for me to come to the surface?” he asked, amused. Chakotay took his hand in both of his own, squeezed, and released him.

 

“I thought you might want some help packing,” he said.

 

“I’m done, really.” Harry waved him into a chair and went back to his bag. “Just got these couple of shirts to put away and I’m finished.”

 

He folded them quickly, stuffed them in his bag, and closed it.

 

“Then does that mean you’re free for dinner?” Chakotay asked, a gleam in his eyes.

 

Harry laughed. Chakotay was transparent sometimes. “I think maybe I could find the time.”

 

They smiled at one another for a moment, until Harry felt the grin slip from his face and he said, sobering quickly, “We should also probably talk about what to do next.”

 

“If you have any ideas, I’m all ears.” Chakotay got up and went to the replicator. He ordered two bowls of mushroom  soup.

 

“I was hoping _you_ would have an idea,” Harry sighed.

 

Chakotay set the soup on the small table in the corner. Harry fetched a bottle of ale out of one of his bags, replicated two glasses, and joined him.

 

“Starfleet’s not launching another deep-space mission for a couple of years,” Harry said. “I’ve already asked around. If I keep working as I have been, I should be in a good position to make a bid for a post on that ship.”

 

“If?” Chakotay asked, picking up on Harry’s choice of words far sooner than he would have liked.

 

Harry nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on his glass. “I can’t get on a ship again, Chakotay. It’s just – it’s too much. Our ship’s counselor nearly packed me in a shuttle and sent me back to Earth a couple of times, but thankfully seemed to realize that being in a small shuttle would just compound the problem. I don’t know what it is, I just –”

 

“Panic attacks, insomnia?” Chakotay asked when Harry broke off.

 

He nodded slowly. “PTSD, too. Some new phobia of space travel as well.”

 

He gestured at the portholes in his cabin, which he had long ago covered with heavy curtains.

 

“I can’t even go up to the observation deck,” Harry went on. He ate two spoonfuls of soup, feeling Chakotay’s eyes on him, then finally looked up. “If I try to make a bid for being placed on a ship as soon as I get back to Earth, I’m probably going to get blocked. Even if they didn’t prevent me from signing on, I don’t know if I would actually want to do it.”

 

And there, the words were out. He _didn’t_ want to go back into space. He’d spent four years out here already, and they had been misery. He’d tried telling himself that it was nothing compared to what _Voyager_ was going through – if they were still alive. He deserved this. It was the least he could do for all the terrible mistakes he had made. And now, coward that he was, he couldn’t even go through with this simple task any more.

 

Chakotay touched his hand, then covered it with his own. Harry stared at him, startled.

 

“If you’re trying to tell me that you’ve decided not to accept a post in space once this one is finished, that’s fine,” Chakotay said. “That’s more than fine, Harry.”

 

“I don’t know how you can say that,” Harry said bitterly, pulling his hand away.

 

“I want to know what happened to our ship, I really do,” Chakotay said. “But your well-being is more important than solving a mystery. If our crew is dead, it won’t matter to them either way whether we find them or not.”

 

“And if they’re not?” Harry hissed.

 

“And if they’re not,” Chakotay said calmly, “don’t you think they’ve proven to be pretty adept at taking care of themselves? Spirits, Harry, we spent _four years_ in the Delta Quadrant while everyone back here believed us to be dead. Now that’s not the case anymore. If they’re still out there, I think they have a fair shot of getting home, even better than the one they had before. They have Kathryn. They don’t need us, not really. And you need to keep _living_.”

 

Harry needed to get really, really drunk. He finished off his glass of ale and poured another. Chakotay watched him for a moment, and then did the same.

 

An hour later, they had moved on to the third bottle in Harry’s stash. Harry, thanks to his slighter frame and the infrequency with which he drank, was well past inebriated by this point. Chakotay had his solid build on his side, and while he wasn’t entirely sober, he at least was holding it together better than Harry was. Or he was better at pretending, at any rate.

 

“Tried recreating _Captain Proton_ once. How stupid is that?”

 

“You did?” Chakotay asked, turning to look at him. They were both seated on the floor now, backs against the sofa. Harry still held his half-finished glass in his hand. Chakotay had set his aside. He was probably done drinking for the night. “And it’s not stupid.”

 

“Tom was the expert with holodecks, not me. I don’t know why I thought -  and besides, what was the point of creating it in the first place if he wasn’t…” Harry trailed off, realizing for the first time that he’d been referring to Tom in the past tense. He scrubbed at his bleary eyes. Chakotay made a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat.

 

“I really fucking miss them,” Harry muttered finally. “Much as I wanted to get home… I never _actually_ thought we’d make it. I always thought I’d live out the rest of my days on that ship, with them. And even if we _did_ make it home, I never thought it would be without all of them. At no point did I imagine they wouldn’t be part of my life anymore.”

 

“Yeah,” Chakotay said softly. “I know what you mean.”

 

“And I wish I could remember the happy times,” Harry said. “Now even the good memories are just… full of sorrow.”

 

Chakotay was quiet for a moment.

 

“That’s the price of memory,” he said at last. “You won’t forget their faces, but you also can’t forget the sorrow that it brings.”

 

Harry let his head fall back against the sofa and sighed. He knew that the minute he stepped off this ship, the search was over. Starfleet would keep it up for two more years, sure, but he had about as much faith in them finding _Voyager_ as he did in himself. And he could pretend to himself all he wanted that he would go into space again, that he would keep looking for them, but he knew it wasn’t going to happen. It had been four years, and he was so damn _tired_.

 

Chakotay discreetly took the glass from his hands and set it aside. Harry noticed, but didn’t particularly care. When Chakotay turned back to look at him, he lifted his head and leaned up to kiss him.

 

He tasted ale and mint on Chakotay’s tongue, and a shudder went down his spine. Chakotay brought a hand to Harry’s jaw, stroking the skin with gentle fingers. Harry found his thigh, and slid his hand up –

 

-And then Chakotay pulled away, and Harry swallowed a groan of frustration.

 

“No – what are you doing, get back here,” he said, making a grab for Chakotay as he swiveled to his feet and crossed the room (somewhat awkwardly, Harry noted with grim satisfaction, thanks to his obvious arousal).

 

“If we do this, we do it sober or not at all,” Chakotay said. He found the med kit in the head and brought back two hyposprays. He crouched in front of Harry and held one out.

 

Harry nodded but didn’t take the hypospray. Chakotay waited a moment, and then applied it to the side of Harry’s neck. He did the same to his own, and then tossed the hyposprays on the couch.

 

Sobriety was near instantaneous, always a disconcerting feeling. The haze that Harry had been enjoying suddenly cleared from his mind, and reality was cold and too present. But then Chakotay sat down next to him again, his body bleeding warmth, and Harry leaned toward him automatically. Chakotay didn’t hesitate this time, but enfolded him in his arms, and Harry was lost.

 

 

The bed had been made with Starfleet precision, tight military folds at the corners and smooth as a sheet of glass. Chakotay pushed Harry down on the thin mattress and climbed on top of him. He planted his knees on either side of Harry’s legs and pushed his shirt up. He skimmed his lips across Harry’s chest until he came to a nipple, which he took between lips and teeth and teased until it became a hard nub.

 

“Jesus,” Harry panted as Chakotay worked his way down, kissing a line from Harry’s sternum to his navel, hands working in the meantime to unfasten Harry’s trousers. He was determined to the point of single-mindedness, efficiently divesting Harry of his trousers and underwear before taking him into his mouth.

 

Harry groaned, letting his head fall back onto the mattress. Chakotay swallowed  him deep, and it took all that remained of his senses to resist bucking his hips. His awareness narrowed to his own ragged breathing, the wet heat that engulfed him, the blood pounding in his ears. His hips jerked uncontrollably when he came, and Chakotay lay an arm across his stomach to hold him still. He didn’t pull off until he had milked the last of Harry’s orgasm from his body. He then swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, leaned over Harry to reach the glass of water on the bedside table, and drank from it deeply.

 

The discarded trousers and underwear were hanging off the side of the bed. Harry kicked them on the floor, then sat up and shed his shirt. He tossed it in a corner before reaching for Chakotay, who was still completely dressed.

 

Starfleet uniforms, Harry had long ago decided, had too many fastenings. They were designed in such a way that made them seem simple and unfussy, until you actually wanted to take one off. Especially when the uniform you wanted to take off was on another person. Harry fumbled through unfastening the hidden clasps and finally pushed the uniform jacket from Chakotay’s shoulders. The shirt underneath went next, and he got his first glimpse of broad chest and bronze skin.

 

Chakotay’s eyes fluttered shut when Harry palmed the bulge in his trousers, pressing the heel of his hand against the hard length. He was straddling Harry’s hips now, and he leaned down to brace his arms on the mattress on either side of Harry’s head.

 

“Oh, _loq-alaj_ ,” he groaned in an unfamiliar language, his lips just barely brushing Harry’s. And then he let out a low groan as Harry unfastened his trousers and slid a hand inside to grasp him.

 

Chakotay rocked his hips as Harry pumped him, uneven breaths ghosting across Harry’s collarbone. He shuddered and came with a moan that he stifled against Harry’s shoulder, spending himself over Harry’s hand and stomach. His trembling arms gave out, and he collapsed next to Harry on the bed.

 

They lay there for a while, panting, covered in swiftly-cooling sweat and bodily fluids. Chakotay eventually hauled himself up off the bed and walked into the head, hiking up his trousers and tucking himself away as he went. He returned with a damp towel, which he handed to Harry wordlessly.

 

Harry cleaned himself off and dropped the towel over the side of the bed. It landed on his trousers. Chakotay stretched out next to him again and put an arm over his eyes. A dozen different questions came to Harry’s mind at once, but the only thing he said was, “Staying?”

 

Chakotay lifted his arm to look at him. He asked softly, “Was that a question or a request?”

 

“Stay,” Harry amended, and Chakotay nodded. Harry tugged at the rumpled sheets until he pulled one corner free of the mattress. He slid under them, rolled over, and went to sleep.

 

The hangover hit him in the middle of the night. He woke dry-mouthed, with an ache in his temples he knew would only intensify. He lay as still as possible, eyes closed and body rigid, trying to will himself back to sleep. But it was no use. With every heartbeat awareness crept in, until there was nothing for him to do but give in to consciousness. He rolled over onto his back, regretting the movement instantly. His head started to pound insistently, his stomach roiled unpleasantly, and bile rose in his throat. He shut his eyes and lay still until the worst of the nausea subsided, and then he very carefully pushed himself into a sitting position and got out of bed.

 

He hated those sobriety hyposprays. They were useful in a pinch, like when an emergency struck during off-duty hours and he needed to sober up immediately to man his post. They were provided to all officers on the ship, an essential element of their personal med kits. But the medication did nothing for the inevitable hangover. It wasn’t designed to make you comfortable, just so that you could function.

 

Harry padded into the head, waited until the door slid shut behind him, and then activated the lights. He splashed cold water on his face, then filled a glass and drank the whole thing in one go. He rummaged around in the med kit for an analgesic, then took that as well.

 

He wasn’t going to go back to bed. He knew his own sleeping habits well enough by now to realize it would be fruitless. He would toss and turn for the rest of the night, then finally give in around 0500 and start to get ready for the day. That was the best case scenario. If he was particularly unlucky, he would fall asleep around 0400 and wake up an hour later feeling worse than he did now. It was better to keep himself awake, he found, than get an hour’s worth of sleep.

 

Besides, Chakotay was still there, and Harry would only wake him up with his restlessness. He went back into the bedroom long enough to feel around on the floor for his underwear, which he then put on before going into the main room.

 

Harry replicated a cup of tea, grabbed a PADD, and sat on the ledge in front of one of the long portholes in his cabin. He pushed aside the curtains, finding that it was easier to look out of the portholes when a planet filled most of his view, as opposed to endless space.

 

He crossed his legs in front of him and resumed his book where he’d left off a few days ago, absentmindedly blowing on the hot tea and trying not think about what it meant that he had slept with his former commanding officer. He could only imagine what the ship’s counselor would say about it - that they were bound together in grief, that they had both shared an unfathomable loss that no one else in the galaxy could possibly understand, that the fact that this had created a profound emotional bond between them was to be expected…

 

He took a sip of the tea and realized then that it was the blend Chakotay always made for him, one that he had never tasted prior to stepping into Chakotay’s apartment four years ago. He had replicated it without even thinking about it. Coffee was his usual drink of choice. He didn’t even really like tea, to be honest, but Chakotay’s was pleasant. Or it at least had pleasant memories associated with it, which were few and far between for Harry these days. It reminded him of feeling safe; understood.

 

Giving up on the pretense of reading, Harry dropped the PADD on the floor and wrapped both hands around his mug. He rested his forehead against the porthole and gazed out at the blue ocean below, allowing his mind to drift in the direction it was tugging him toward anyway. They were passing over the Pacific now. In minutes, the western coast of North America would come into view, and then fade away as they moved swiftly over the continent. He longed to have solid ground beneath his feet again, and consoled himself with the fact that his shuttle planetside would depart in only twelve hours.

 

And then what? The ship’s counselor had entered strict orders into his file, orders he hadn’t admitted to Chakotay yet. He was to take a six-month sabbatical, with regular therapy sessions and medications if necessary. He was supposed to rest. Maybe find a hobby. But he was barred from taking any new postings, planetside or no. Harry imagined he would just return home like he did four years ago, and spend six months in a bedroom and home that felt now like they had never belonged to him at all. A stranger had grown up in that home, a stranger who had died on _Voyager_. It wasn’t entirely untrue, actually, come to think of it. He was, after all, just a duplicate of the Harry Kim who had left the Alpha Quadrant eight years ago. The original version of himself was probably still floating in the vast vacuum of space, his body never to be retrieved.

 

Chakotay had conveniently left that little tidbit out of his extensive report to Starfleet about their four years in the Delta, for which Harry was grateful. It seemed Chakotay couldn’t help but do it, just like he had taken the fall for Harry’s mistake. He was hard-wired to protect, to shelter. Harry knew he should have been annoyed, but all he could feel around Chakotay was… relief. Because here was someone else to share the memories with him, and the heartache, and the pain. Here was understanding so deep they didn’t have to use words. He didn’t have to be anything around Chakotay - didn’t have to be an officer, or _fine_ , or _all right_ \- he just had to be Harry.

 

Maybe it was an unhealthy way to cope. Harry didn’t really care. This was his life now, and no one else had to live it but him. If this was what it took to get him out of bed in the mornings, then to hell with what anyone thought.

 

A soft rustling sound made him turn, and he made out Chakotay’s silhouette in the dim light of the room. He was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, also dressed only in his underwear.

 

“It’s 0230,” Chakotay murmured, voice rough with sleep. He cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”

 

“Can’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”

 

Chakotay came over and sat on the porthole ledge by Harry’s feet. He swung his legs up so they lay alongside Harry’s and the two of them were facing each other.

 

“I’m sorry if I was too…” Chakotay trailed off, waving a hand vaguely.

 

“Don’t be stupid. I wanted it as much as you did.” _Needed it_ , more like, but Harry wasn’t about to say that out loud.

 

They were quiet for a while. Harry turned his gaze back to the Earth rotating beneath them. They were now almost beyond the North American continent, moving swiftly toward the Atlantic.

 

“They’re giving me a six-month leave to get my head on straight,” he said finally, without looking at Chakotay.

 

“I had a feeling,” Chakotay said quietly. “PTSD is something they’re going to want to get under control before you take another assignment.”

 

“Yeah.” Harry swallowed. “There are some planetside postings that might be available by then. I was thinking about Bajor. I mean, they’re going to need personnel to help with the recovery efforts, and even though Bajor is technically closer to the Gamma than the Delta, it’s still a hell of a lot closer than we are now…”

 

Chakotay put a hand on his knee, silencing him.

 

“Do you have a place to go in the meantime?” he asked.

 

“Just my parents’, which is fine,” Harry said. He gave a small shrug. “It just doesn’t seem like much sense to get a place of my own when I don’t know if I’ll even end up on Earth permanently. Or anywhere permanently.”

 

“Where would you like to end up?”

 

Harry gave a bitter, disbelieving laugh. “If I had a choice? Back on _Voyager_.”

 

Chakotay swept his thumb thoughtfully across the bone of Harry’s knee. “You could always come stay with me.”

 

“Chakotay -” Harry started to protest, and then stopped. It was a bad idea, he knew, but then, he couldn’t exactly articulate _why_ it was a bad idea.

 

“I’m close to Headquarters,” Chakotay said reasonably. “We can schedule you times to use the deep-space telescopes, and you can also monitor transmissions from out near the Hirogen network. We’ll have to do it under the radar, so to speak, but I’ve got people I can pull favors from. And I’m right by the water; you can go sailing any time. There are holosuites in my building, and I’ve got a guest room. I usually travel once or twice a month, so you’d even have the place to yourself -”

 

This time, Harry was the one who silenced him with a hand on his knee.

 

“What are we doing?” he asked softly.

 

“I don’t know,” Chakotay answered honestly. “I really don’t, Harry. I just know that last night felt so _right_ after years of feeling like the world’s been pulled out from under my feet. And I’ve felt that way around you since we got back, not just because something happened this time.”

 

“Yeah,” Harry said with a nod. “All right, then.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Chakotay patted his knee, then folded his hands in his lap. They both turned their attentions to the porthole, watching darkness fall over Eurasia as night rushed in.


	4. 2379-2381

For the first time, Harry wasn’t alone when he took the cross-country shuttle to his parents’ house from San Francisco. Chakotay had stayed with him through the entirety of his final day on _Bengal_ , then took the shuttle with him down to the mainland. From there, he got them to the shuttleport and had herded Harry on to the 1730 transport to New York. Harry would have been irritated if he also wasn’t so damn grateful that, for once, the decisions were up to someone else. Someone else was deciding next steps, someone else was handling all the details. All Harry had to do was sit there and breathe.

 

“Sleep,” Chakotay said quietly to him, nudging Harry gently with his arm. “We’ve got a couple of hours before we land.”

 

“I’m fine,” Harry said.

 

He woke two hours later as the shuttle came in for its final approach, and he lifted his head from Chakotay’s shoulder to shoot him an inquisitive look. Chakotay gave him a sheepish smile.

 

“Sorry, was just double-checking your harness. We’re going to land soon,” he said softly. He leaned back in his seat again, and Harry rested against him. He cast weary eyes around the shuttle, taking in the other passengers. After a moment, he noticed that more than a few curious looks were being shot their way.

 

“Been spotted,” he murmured quietly to Chakotay.

 

“I know,” Chakotay said, equally soft. “Ignore it.”

 

“Easy for you to say.”

 

Turned out, it _was_ just that easy for Chakotay. When the shuttle finally landed, he and Harry gathered their things and then joined the line to disembark. Chakotay went in front of him. Harry watched as a couple of the curious passengers tried to engage him conversation, which he tolerated politely, but when the holo-imagers came out he put up his hand to cover the lenses.

 

“Get that out of my face,” he growled more than once, and the offending passengers quickly shrank back. Chakotay pushed past them and off the shuttle, Harry quick on his heels.

 

“That happen to you often?” Harry asked as they strode down the street.

 

“Not as much now as it used to.” Chakotay stopped suddenly and turned to him. “You’re going to have to take it from here, Harry. I have no idea where we’re going.”

 

“Oh. Right. Come on, this way.”

 

Harry’s parents were beside themselves when they saw him. He should have realized they would react this way and was faintly embarrassed that Chakotay had to experience such a spectacle. His mother cried. His father kept his composure, but they both embraced him so tightly he struggled to breathe.

 

“Enough, enough,” he said finally, pushing them gently away. “Mom, Dad, this is Chakotay, we were on _Voyager_ -”

 

“Of course!” Mary exclaimed, turning so that she could throw her arms around Chakotay. Harry suppressed a smile. “We know all about Commander Chakotay! Thank you for bringing our boy home.”

 

“Uh - you’re welcome, but really Harry was the one who came up with the idea -” Chakotay broke off as Mary hugged him tighter, and Harry sniggered. Then John stepped forward and pumped Chakotay’s hand, thanking him profusely, and Harry couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer.

 

The Kims insisted that Harry and Chakotay have dinner with them before they started packing up Harry’s things. Harry protested, but to his surprise Chakotay readily agreed.

 

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he said under his breath as they were led into the dining room.

 

“I think I can handle myself, Lieutenant,” Chakotay said, his voice pitched low enough that it elicited a shiver from Harry.

 

Most of dinner focused on Harry. His parents quizzed him endlessly about _Bengal_. They already knew about his medical leave, and thankfully didn’t bring it up explicitly.

 

But then his mother said, “So did you find a place in San Francisco, Harry? Near the bay, I hope,” and Harry cleared his throat.

 

“Actually, I’m going to be crashing with Chakotay for a few months,” he said. “Until I’m up for another assignment. It makes more sense for me to be near Headquarters.”

 

His parents were surprised, he could tell, but they hid it swiftly.

 

“Of course,” his mother said briskly. “That’s very wise of you. They have good doctors there?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good counselors?”

 

“Mother,” Harry said in exasperation.

 

“The staff at Starfleet Medical is the best in the quadrant,” Chakotay broke in. “Harry will have every expert in the Federation at his disposal, should he need them.”

 

Mary considered him for a moment. Her eyes flicked to Harry, then back to Chakotay, and Harry could tell with a sinking feeling that she had figured it out. Her demeanor changed immediately. “Tell us about yourself. You’re originally from Earth?”

 

“No, ma’am,” Chakotay said, and Harry winced inwardly. His mother hated being called _ma’am_. “I’m from Dorvan V.”

 

“Never heard of it,” John said sharply, picking up on his wife’s changed demeanor.  

 

“It used to be near the Cardassian Demilitarized Zone,” Chakotay said. “And now it’s part of the Cardassian Empire.”

 

“And what do you do again, Commander?” Mary asked. “You teach?”

 

“Not so much anymore, I’m afraid. I oversee the Tactics department at the Academy. I used to be an instructor, yes.” Chakotay gave a rueful smile. “Anthropology was my specialty, but there’s not much use for anthropology these days. Not in the aftermath of a war.”

 

“And you were part of the Maquis,” John said sharply. "Correct?"

 

Chakotay hesitated for a moment. “Yes.”

 

“And then he was first officer on _Voyager_ , and he helped bring me home,” Harry stepped in quickly, feeling at once mortified and furious. His parents only got like this when - God, they hadn’t been like this since David, the guy he’d dated right before Libby. “Four years of exemplary service earned him a full pardon. The Maquis… they were a lifetime ago.”

 

Mary nodded in understanding, but John continued to eye Chakotay warily. The rest of the meal was spent in near-silence.

 

Later, as John was helping Harry pack up his room, he said, “This commander of yours… I looked up his service file.”

 

“Yeah?” Harry said distractedly. His mother and Chakotay were in the other room, gathering some more of his things into boxes. He could hear that they were talking, but he couldn’t make out the words.

 

“He’s committed treason against the Federation.”

 

“I thought we just went over this at dinner. Given the nature of his service to Starfleet after that, he was cleared of all wrong-doing,” Harry said with a sigh. “And at this point, so have the rest of the surviving Maquis. You know that, Dad.”

 

“He’s fifty-one,” his father went on.

 

“Yeah? What’s your point - oh.” Harry shot his father a withering glare. “So he’s twenty years older than I am. What’s the big deal, Dad? I’m an adult. I can handle myself. And it isn’t like that.”

 

“You’re moving in with him.”

 

“I’m staying in his guest bedroom until Starfleet clears me to take another assignment,” Harry said. “That’s it. It just makes more sense to be as close to Headquarters as I can get. I’ve got some professors I can look up at the Academy in the meantime. It never hurts to keep connections close.”

 

John grunted, but he seemed satisfied with the answer. “This is true. I should have known you would keep working, even when Starfleet told you to take some time off.”

 

“Yeah, well, they don’t really know what’s best for me,” Harry said. “Now can we please drop it?”

 

It didn’t take them long to pack up Harry’s things. There wasn’t much from the house that he needed or wanted. They piled all the boxes in his bedroom, and Harry made arrangements to have them shipped out to Chakotay’s apartment the next day.

 

“You should stay the night,” Mary implored. “Then you can leave in the morning with your things -”

 

“I’ve got enough in my bags to sustain me for three years. I think I can handle a night,” Harry said dryly. He kissed his mother on the cheek and hugged his father. “I’ll come out every couple of weeks for dinner, all right? I’ll see you both soon. I love you.”

 

Once again, Chakotay took care of all the travel arrangements - getting them to the shuttleport and on a shuttle back to San Francisco. Harry just had to follow him. They stepped foot in Chakotay’s apartment at two in the morning, and a wave of overwhelming relief swept over Harry. This was it. He was _home_.

 

Chakotay pressed his shoulder. “You okay?”

 

For the first time in four years, Harry could honestly say, “Yes.”

 

\----

 

Harry learned more about Chakotay in four weeks than he had in four years.

 

Chakotay enjoyed cooking because he found it relaxing, but he rarely had time to do it. Though he wouldn’t eat meat himself, he wasn’t against Harry consuming it. He was even willing to prepare it as part of Harry’s portion of a meal, though Harry wasn’t about to ask him to do that.

 

He was multilingual, and Standard had been the third language he ever learned. He was fluent in four total. When time permitted in his busy schedule, he taught boxing classes at the Academy. He’d grown up in an agrarian society, and he missed farming. Living in San Francisco meant that he didn’t even have a small plot of land to call a garden, so he made do with plant boxes on his balcony. Sometimes he even grew the food that they ate, and there were potted plants all over the inside of the apartment as well.

 

Chakotay was ticklish, always startling in bed when Harry skimmed his hands down his sides. The simple act of trailing kisses along his neck was enough to turn him into a whimpering mess. For the most part, he was utterly silent when in the act, which made Harry wonder if he was doing something wrong until Chakotay sheepishly explained, “You had to be, in the Maquis. Completely quiet, that is. Everything we did had to be done in silence sometimes, lest we reveal our positions to the enemy. Cooking, eating, sleeping, sex… and I guess I never managed to break myself of the habit.”

 

He’d been engaged once, during his last year at the Academy, but the relationship didn’t last past his first assignment. His apartment was tidy almost to the point of driving Harry mad, and that was the first true point of contention between them. Chakotay never left so much as a stray sock lying around, whereas Harry was a little more lax when it came to things like that. Not that he ever lived in a mess – he was a Starfleet officer, after all, and neatness and order had been drilled into him at the Academy – but sometimes he’d eat breakfast and leave his dish in the sink to take care of when he got home that evening. Or he’d change in the evening after coming home and leave his uniform jacket slung over the back of a chair. Doing such things was unheard of for Chakotay.

 

Harry had dated various people throughout his years at the Academy, but Libby had been his last serious relationship and they’d never lived together. He’d only ever lived with his parents or on his own, so living with the man he was also sleeping with took some getting used to. He stayed in Chakotay’s guest bedroom, as he’d told his parents he would, for the first week. After that, they gave up the pretense. There wasn’t any point to it – he’d still end up in Chakotay’s bed at some point during the night anyway, even if he eventually returned to his own bedroom after. It was odd – but not unwelcome – spending night after night with another person in bed. Chakotay was a tactile person, even when asleep, and he’d always touch Harry in some way. Usually he’d curl around Harry from behind, or sleep with an arm across Harry’s stomach.

 

Harry wasn’t used to any of this. There was someone _there_ for him now. Someone who was beside him when he woke in the morning and who greeted him with a kiss when he got home. Someone to share meals with; someone he called when he was running late so he didn’t worry. Someone he curled up against when he all he could do at night was relive that horrible shuttle ride through the slipstream.

 

How the hell had it taken him so long to find this man?

 

Weeks bled together until they became months. Harry dutifully attended all of his counseling sessions, because he knew Starfleet wouldn’t give him the green light for another posting if he didn’t. He was mostly truthful in his sessions. His therapist knew about Chakotay – well, that wasn’t something Harry could easily keep a secret, now that the media had gotten hold of the story – and about Harry’s nightmares, his insomnia, his anxiety. The only thing he lied about was finding something to occupy all his free time. He told her he had found some work down by the docks, loading and unloading cargo shuttles, which was untrue. Harry in fact spent most of his time in the apartment, reading. He hated venturing outside, because he was bound to be recognized and bombarded with questions.  

 

“How do you manage it?” he asked Chakotay, who didn’t have the luxury of being able to hide in the apartment all day.

 

Chakotay shrugged. “I don’t know. Usually people just stare, but they don’t approach. Only the reporters, really, are bold enough to come up to me. I just ignore them, or I refer them to the Academy for a statement. The head of media relations can deal with them.”

 

“I see them camp out on the street in the morning sometimes, waiting for you to come out,” Harry said.

 

Chakotay gave him a mischievous grin. “I used to spend my days evading highly trained Starfleet officers, and I was pretty damn good at that. You think I can’t slip past a few reporters?”

 

Harry went to his parents’ every couple of weeks for dinner, just as he promised. More often than not, he brought Chakotay with him, unless Chakotay was tied up at work. His parents were still cautious about the idea of Chakotay in his life, but at least his mother kept her reservations to herself. His father was not nearly so discreet, which pissed Harry off to no end. Chakotay just laughed the whole thing off.

 

“You think I’ve never had to deal with the disapproving parents of someone I was involved with before?” he asked. “This is nothing, Harry. And just wait until you meet my sister.”

 

Chakotay’s sister and her husband lived with their growing family on Mars. She wanted to relocate to Earth, to be closer to her brother, but her husband’s job kept them stationed on Mars and he wasn’t about to put in for a transfer. They had two boys now. Chakotay’s work travels usually took him to Mars, so he visited them as often as he could. He asked Harry each time if he would come along, and Harry entertained the idea for about ten seconds before nausea at the idea of space travel kicked him in the gut and he shook his head.

 

“Maybe next time,” he’d say weakly.

 

Chakotay would always kiss him gently and say, without judgment or anger, “Of course. Next time.”

 

\----

 

The search for _Voyager_ plodded along slowly for two years after Harry’s return to Earth. When he and Chakotay had first came back to the Alpha Quadrant, the only thing that Starfleet concerned itself with was looking for _Voyager_. Over the years, they had scaled back their search efforts. Twenty search vessels became ten, which became five, and soon there were only two ships dedicated to looking for _Voyager_ full-time.

 

Harry tried to get himself stationed on one of those vessels, but to no avail. So he had to be content with staying planetside, and trying to help _Voyager_ from there. Part of him was relieved that he didn’t get posted on one of those ships, because he truly had no desire to go back into space. The other half of him was furious that he felt that way, and he spent a good many hours brooding about what an utter failure he was.

 

He was working in one of the astrophysics labs at Starfleet Academy when the news broke. He came here on occasion to map out where _Voyager_ ’s final flight might have taken them. There were so many variables to consider that he had come up with fifteen different scenarios within the last two years. There were probably dozens more to consider, too. The lab was open to officers in the evenings and on weekends, whereas cadets usually utilized it during the day.

 

There was only one other person in the lab tonight, a lieutenant by the name of Barry Jenkins. He and Harry had run into each other a couple of times before here, so Harry found he didn’t mind the man’s presence as much as he would that of a stranger. They had gotten the introductions and curious questions out of the way already. Jenkins didn’t press him for much about _Voyager_ , and Harry didn’t ask him too many questions about his own research. They worked in companionable silence now - for the most part.

 

Jenkins was listening to a news stream on the other side of the room. Starfleet Command was giving a press conference, and when Harry caught _Voyager_ ’s name, he knew immediately what it was about.

 

“I thought they ended the search years ago,” Jenkins mused as he worked.

 

“Yeah?” Harry tried to force himself not to pay attention to the news stream.

 

“Seems like a waste of resources to keep up the search for so long when we’ve still got a war to recover from.” Jenkins looked at him quickly. “Uh - no offense.”

 

Harry waved him off. Thankfully, after a few minutes, Jenkins finished what he was doing and got up and left.

 

Harry walked back to the apartment that evening instead of seeking out a hovercab, enjoying the crisp autumn breeze and the mild weather. It wasn’t raining, at least, and that was something. Chakotay had told him he was tied up in meetings and wasn’t going to be home for hours yet, so Harry made himself dinner and sat down at Chakotay’s desk. He brought up the latest news report and watched it while he ate.

 

 _“Officials announced today that the search for the_ U.S.S. Voyager _, which has been missing in the Delta Quadrant since 2371, has been brought to a close. Starfleet vessels have been searching for a trace of_ Voyager _for the past six years, ever since two of her officers safely made it back to Earth. So far, no trace of the ship itself has ever been found.”_

 

Harry tried to muster up some kind of feeling - regret, anger, pain - but he felt nothing. There was a cold, hollow ache behind his sternum, but nothing more profound than that. He switched off the news report and finished his dinner, then put the plate back in the replicator for recycling.

 

He checked their messages next, already knowing what he would find. Requests for interviews from twenty different news agencies all over the Federation. Five more poured in while Harry was reading through the previous twenty, and he deleted them all in irritation. Then he blocked all future incoming messages, unless they were coded from Chakotay’s office or his parents’ home.

 

It was just barely eight in the evening, but he was exhausted down to his bones. He showered, then crawled into bed and fell promptly asleep.

 

Chakotay didn’t wake him when he got home. They were both light sleepers, and usually one of them unintentionally woke the other up if he got home late. But this time Harry didn’t react to the dip in the mattress behind him, nor to the arm that settled around his waist. Instead, he woke much later to Chakotay’s light breathing in his ear and the solid weight of him at his back.

 

Dawn was fast approaching. Gray light outlined the heavy curtains that covered the windows, and the chronometer on the bedside table read 0600.

 

So here they were - the very first day without a ship scouring the quadrant, looking for a sign of _Voyager_. Harry closed his eyes, wondering why it didn’t feel any different than any other day. Why he didn’t feel rage, or misery, or any number of other things that he thought he’d feel. He’d known this day would come, had imagined his reaction countless times. Storming into admirals offices, tracking down Owen Paris and berating him until he was blue in the face, commandeering a ship and going on the run - he thought he would have been capable of all of those things and more. Anything for _Voyager_.

 

Instead, he was waking up in Chakotay’s arms as he had countless times over the past two years, his mind was quiet, and he was… calm.

 

Chakotay shifted, and Harry knew he was awake. He always slept in the same position the whole night through, not moving a muscle. He let out a slow sigh and murmured, “I went to see Admiral Beckett yesterday. And Paris. I tried…”

 

He trailed off. Harry squeezed his hand. “I know.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“You haven’t done a thing in the past six years that you need to be sorry for. I’m the one who should have tried harder to keep the search alive. You have other things to worry about.” Harry rolled over onto his back. Chakotay ended up with his head resting on Harry’s shoulder and his arm still around Harry’s waist. “I’ll keep talking to them. There are a lot of admirals in Starfleet.”

 

“I don’t like seeing you do this to yourself, Harry.”

 

“What other choice do we have?”

 

Chakotay went silent, letting the obvious go unsaid, which Harry was distinctly grateful for.

 

\----------

 

Starfleet had blocked Harry’s attempt to be stationed on Bajor eighteen months ago, after he had finished his therapy sessions and was cleared to resume his duties. They instead decided to keep him on the North American continent, and he split his time between the desert and the mountains, taking cadets on trips for survivalist training. It was an easy posting, all things considered. Sure, there was always the risk of him falling off the side of a mountain to his death, but at least he was on solid ground. And the other perks were nice. He was on an every-other-month schedule - one month in the mountains, one month at home; one month in the desert, one month at home.

 

He was halfway through one of his off-months now. He’d be departing with a group of cadets for Denali in a couple of weeks. The ones who passed the course would be shipped off to Mars for the next step of their training; those who didn’t would return to the Academy for another semester of preparation.

 

Harry, at thirty-two, was in his prime now. On his off-months, he hit the gym every morning for three hours and did practice hikes throughout North America with a bag of gear strapped to his back. He figured he could keep this up for a few more years at the very least, provided he didn’t sustain any serious injuries. If he was very lucky, he could probably stretch this job out until he was forty.

 

The month of separation was always hard on him and Chakotay, especially since for much of it they were unable to communicate. The survivalist training had to be realistic, after all. But overall, Chakotay was pleased that Harry had found work he enjoyed. And the shallower part of him - which he endearingly tried to hide - loved how the physical demands of Harry’s job kept him in peak physical condition. He’d always been trim, but now there wasn’t an ounce of fat to be found on his body. His muscles were solid and defined, his stomach taut, and there were entire weekends now when Chakotay barely let him get out of bed.

 

 _You’re going to be bitterly disappointed when I leave this job,_ Harry had warned him one afternoon, laughing as Chakotay’s fingers skimmed down his abdomen. _I’m going to get old and fat._

 

 _I’ll still want you when you’re old and fat,_ Chakotay had countered. _I’ll be old and fat, too, and you better still want me!_

 

Which was a complete lie, Harry knew. Chakotay had genetics on his side. At fifty-three, he was virtually unchanged from the day that Harry met him, and he didn’t have to work his ass off to appear that way. His hair was a little longer now and shot through with silver - that was the only change. It was the one thing he was self-conscious about, actually, but Harry refused to let him dye it.

 

Chakotay was working late again tonight. Harry made dinner from one of his mom’s recipes, saved half of it for Chakotay, and inhaled the rest. His hike today had been done in brutal heat, and he didn’t realize until he got back to the cool apartment how starved he was. He sat down at the computer terminal in the corner of the main room and logged on. _Voyager_ ’s search had been called off a week ago. Chakotay made him promise to wait a week before he acted, so he wouldn’t do anything brash. Now, Harry called up the list of admirals who had sent him congratulations over the years, and the ones who had decorated him upon their return to the Alpha Quadrant. Harry hadn’t contacted them in years. He was saving up his favors for a time like this.

 

Chakotay had already taken care of Beckett and Paris, which Harry was grateful for. He wondered if Chakotay had done that on purpose, so Harry wouldn’t have to deal with the asshole father of his best friend. He moved down the list and decided that he would speak to Nechayev and, for the hell of it, Chekote, because the name amused him. He wondered if this Chekote was anything like his own. Probably not, judging from the official photograph of the reedy-looking man. He sent meeting requests to the offices of both admirals, expecting a response sometime in the morning, and shut down the terminal.

 

He finished the rest of his dinner and showered. Feeling more like himself again, Harry sat down at the hand-carved table in the middle of the room and started in on a different project of his.

 

An hour later, Harry put his stylus between his teeth, contemplating all the PADDs he had spread out on the table in front of him. A year ago, he’d downloaded everything in Starfleet’s databases about the slipstream drive, information that had been compiled based on his and Chakotay’s testimonies six years ago. He’d also compiled texts on astrophysics, quantum theory, metamathematics, and relativity. Anything that he thought might be useful in helping him figure out where he’d gone wrong in his calculation. What the fatal error had been that sent _Voyager_ to its demise.

 

This was an exercise he’d started over a year ago, as they marked the fifth anniversary of their return to the Alpha Quadrant. He thought it might help if he could at least figure out where he’d gone wrong. He’d carry it with him for the rest of his life, the knowledge like an atonement for his sins. If he could do nothing else for his crewmates, he could at least do this.

 

Chakotay hated the idea. He didn’t understand why Harry would, in his eyes, continue torturing himself over something that wasn’t his fault - and something that he couldn’t change, anyway. Harry had long ago given up trying to explain it to him. It was easier to just wait until Chakotay was out of town or away from the apartment before he pulled out his calculations. Better than fighting with him, at any rate. He hated fighting with Chakotay. It reminded him how very close he was to being all alone in this new existence of his, that all it would take is Chakotay walking out and he would have no one. No one who understood, at any rate. Not that he thought that Chakotay was the type of person who would do that, but it was just easier to avoid the fight altogether. Better for his anxiety, too.

 

He worked until 2200, when he knew Chakotay was locking up his office for the night and making his way home. Then, Harry cleared away all the PADDs and was safely engrossed in a book on the sofa when Chakotay stepped through the door.

 

“Hey.” Chakotay dropped a kiss on his head before moving away. He set his bag on a chair and rubbed his shoulder absently. “Have you eaten?”

 

“Yeah, but I saved some for you in the ‘fresher. Mom’s black bean soup.”

 

“I love your mother,” Chakotay sighed. He went into the kitchen. “Sure you’re not hungry?”

 

Harry suppressed a smile. “I’m sure. It’s all yours.”

 

Chakotay couldn’t help but fuss, he realized. This wasn’t surprising. What _was_ unexpected was that Harry found he actually didn’t mind being fussed over.

 

“Where did you go today?”

 

“Dead Horse Point,” Harry said.

 

“Ouch,” Chakotay said as he came back out into the main room. He sat on the sofa next to Harry with a bowl of soup cradled in his hands. “That must have been brutal.”

 

“I’ve been through worse,” Harry pointed out. “I’m going to try to visit Nechayev and Chekote tomorrow.”

 

Chakotay snorted between bites of soup. “Chekote, really?”

 

“Okay, so that’s a blow-off meeting. I doubt it’ll come to anything. But Nechayev will probably listen.”

 

“Probably,” Chakotay admitted. “But whether or not she’ll be able to do anything is another matter.”

 

“I refuse to let them forget about our ship. I want to keep it alive in every admiral’s mind that they’ve abandoned one hundred and fifty of their own citizens out there.”

 

“I know, Harry.”

 

And if they didn’t listen – well, there were a lot of admirals out there. Harry wasn’t going to give up until he’d talked to each and every one of them.


	5. 2382

Harry hated the cold. Always had, always would. The sheer desolation at the top of the highest peak in North America was both gorgeous and profoundly terrifying, and Harry was eager to finish this month’s training and get back home. This was his third time on Denali, and it never got any easier. He preferred admiring the mountains from a picture, rather than in person. Chakotay was the more adventurous of the two of them. He’d probably have the time of his life on this mountain.

 

Of the fifteen cadets who accompanied him this month, twelve of them would be advancing to Mars. They wouldn’t know this until they got back to San Francisco and were given their test scores. Harry saw no reason to bring down the spirits of the three who failed on their final night in the Alaska Range. When they were finally back at base camp, twenty-eight days after leaving it, Harry took a blissful shower and then went to call Chakotay.

 

He was annoyed when Chakotay didn’t answer the call, but then reasoned that he was probably working another late night. He’d been doing that a lot lately. His department was short-staffed and he was having a difficult time replacing his faculty, and it was starting to wear on him. Harry left him a brief message and then went to find dinner - an actual, home-cooked meal (or as near as he was going to get out here).

 

His cadets celebrated the end of the trip rather heavily that night, and Harry was the only one who remained awake on the shuttle ride home the next night. He was fond of all of them, regardless of how well they did on the training, and he couldn’t help but smile as he surveyed them - heads resting on buddies’ shoulders, mouths slack, a couple of them snoring lightly. He hoped they all got where they wanted to be in life, when all was said and done.

 

Harry got home well after Chakotay would have for once. He still hadn’t heard from his lover, which was now just irritating. Chakotay wasn’t known to be absent-minded, and he should have seen the message waiting for him when he got home. Still, he didn’t call. Harry was debating whether or not he should bring it up with Chakotay when he stepped into the apartment that night. Was it worth risking a fight?

 

The apartment was dark. Harry frowned. It wasn’t all that late. Chakotay wouldn’t have gone to bed so early, especially not on the night he knew Harry was returning.

 

“Chakotay?” Harry asked the empty room. He padded into the kitchen and flipped on the lights: empty as well. There was no one on the balcony, either, though a PADD had been left on the small table next to Chakotay’s usual chair, as well as an empty glass. Trepidation pricking him behind his sternum, Harry went back inside and walked into the bedroom. “Computer, illumination ten percent.”

 

The lights came on. Chakotay was fast asleep on the bed, curled up under a mound of blankets despite the stuffiness in the apartment. Harry didn’t know how he could stand it. More than that, he didn’t know how Chakotay was still asleep. He usually came awake at the slightest sound.

 

Harry went over to the bed and placed a hand on Chakotay’s forehead. The touch was enough to rouse Chakotay, but he didn’t startle like he normally did. He blinked blearily up at Harry.

 

“Hey,” Harry said softly, then added unnecessarily, “I’m back. What’ve you done to yourself?”

 

Chakotay grunted and closed his eyes again, as though he hadn’t even registered that Harry was there. Harry went into the head and grabbed a tricorder from the medical kit, then came back into the bedroom to scan Chakotay. He wasn’t well-versed in medicine, but he knew enough to realize that a fever of close to one hundred and four was dangerously high, especially given that he didn’t know how long Chakotay had had it. A number of other readings flashed across the screen that he assumed weren’t good, and then a diagnosis came through: _Terellian Fever, Advanced 5 Days._

 

“Fuck,” Harry muttered to himself. Five days without treatment for Terellian Fever? Chakotay was lucky he was still breathing. He gripped Chakotay’s shoulder. “Chakotay? Hey, Chakotay, you need to wake up. Right now.”

 

Chakotay groaned and cracked open swollen eyes to peer at him. He rasped, “Harry?”

 

“Yeah, it’s me. Look, you need to get up. We’re going over to Starfleet Medical.”

 

“M’fine.”

 

“The fuck you are,” Harry snapped at him. He crouched by the bed so he could look Chakotay in the eye, and he gripped the other man’s chin to force their gazes to meet. “You’re walking out of this apartment or I’m getting a medical team to come fetch you, but either way, you’re going to the hospital. Which one is it going to be?”

 

Chakotay passed out again without answering, and this time, Harry couldn’t wake him.

 

\----

 

Given the urgency of the situation, Starfleet Medical elected to beam Chakotay directly into their facility from their apartment. Harry had to make his way to the hospital on his own, and on a busy Saturday night in San Francisco, public transportation was slow. He arrived at Starfleet Medical almost forty-five minutes later, out of breath. He’d covered the last five blocks at a flat-out sprint. When he told the receptionist who he was and who he was here to see, he was ushered up to the fifth floor of the building, where the critical care ward was housed.

 

“He’s lucky you found him when you did,” a solemn-faced doctor told him in the waiting room. “In another twelve hours, his brain functions would have shut down, and his body would literally have forgotten how to breathe and his heart how to beat.”

 

“Shit,” Harry muttered in horror, fighting down nausea as he imagined walking into that apartment and finding Chakotay dead. He knew, without any hesitation, that that would have been the last straw. He wouldn’t have survived that.

 

“That being said, he’s not entirely out of danger at this point.” The doctor sat down next to Harry. She handed him a PADD. “Here, you can monitor his condition on here, if you like. It’s hooked up to the computers that are monitoring his vitals. We have him in isolation at the moment. He’ll be able to receive visitors in another twenty-four hours, so until then, this will have to do. The fever was high enough that it made him delirious, and he might have moments of hallucinations off and on for the next couple of days. Right now, we’re trying to get the fever down, as well as the swelling.”

 

“Swelling?”

 

The doctor nodded. “All of his joints are swollen, right down to his fingers and toes. He can barely move, not that he’s conscious for long enough at the moment to try. It’s also extremely painful. Once the fever breaks, we’ll be able to do further testing, see if there was any permanent organ or brain damage.”

 

“Jesus.” Harry put his head in his hands.

 

“We’re doing everything we can for him,” the doctor said. “Please know that, Mr. Kim. Our top physicians have all been assigned to his case.”

 

Harry spent the rest of the night in that chair, not daring to leave - not even for a drink of water. Doctors came out at irregular intervals to check in with him and report on Chakotay’s progress, which was a pointless venture, given that Harry could see that all on the PADD he’d been given. Distantly, he appreciated their attention, but mostly he was overwhelmed with worry. What was he going to do if Chakotay didn’t walk out of this hospital?

 

By the morning, it sounded as though Chakotay’s condition was stable, and Harry finally left the hospital for the apartment at 0800. He intended to only shower and change before returning, but when he saw the state of the apartment he decided to clean up a bit instead. Everything that Chakotay had touched went into the recycling unit - bed sheets, towels, glasses, silverware. Harry disinfected the whole place as best as he could, then replicated new items. He made the bed again and, realizing then that he hadn’t slept in over thirty hours, knew he wasn’t going to be of any use without at least some rest. He curled up on Chakotay’s side of the bed, fully clothed, and immediately dropped off into sleep.

 

Harry returned to the hospital later that night, just as the twenty-four hour ban on visitors to Chakotay’s room was lifted. Chakotay was still unconscious, but one of the nurses told Harry that he had woken up briefly about six hours ago - long enough for them to explain to him what was going on, at least, though he quickly fell asleep again after that.

 

“Did he say anything?” Harry asked, and she shook her head. “How does something like this happen? I didn’t think there was a risk of Terellian Fever here on Earth.”

 

“We’re investigating it now,” the nurse told him patiently. “Needless to say, we’re also very concerned about a possible outbreak here on Earth. Right now I know they’re looking into all the cadets he would have come into contact with in the past two weeks. If any of them have been off-world recently, they might be a carrier.”

 

Harry left it at that, because honestly, he didn’t really care where exactly Chakotay had gotten it from. More than anything, he was pissed that Chakotay had let it go for so long. And then there was the stab of pain that came with the realization that if he hadn’t shown up when he did, Chakotay would be dead.

 

He hadn’t called his own parents, knowing that they would have appeared at the hospital within two hours, but he did leave a message for Aiyana updating her on her brother’s condition. He had no idea when she would get the message and if she would come out here with the kids, but it was a distinct possibility, so before leaving the apartment that night he made sure the guest room had been made up. Just in case.

 

Chakotay looked every one of his fifty-three years. His cheeks were hollow and his eyes sunken, and even though his face was slack in sleep, the soft lines there were sharpened by stress and illness. Even his silvering hair was limp and lifeless. Harry pushed his fingers through it and leaned in.

 

“Don’t you leave me,” he whispered in Chakotay's ear. “Don’t you dare fucking leave me, you hear?”

 

Chakotay’s lips parted, and on a weak hiss of breath he murmured, “Not gonna leave you, Harry.”

 

Harry started, and then flushed. “Thought you were asleep.”

 

“Thought I was, too.” Chakotay cracked open his eyes and swiveled his gaze to look blearily at Harry. “All right?”

 

“Yeah,” Harry lied. “You?”

 

“Fine. Sorry I scared you.” It was taking all of his energy just to say these few words, and Harry wished he’d stop talking.

 

“It’s fine,” Harry said. “Go back to sleep.”

 

Chakotay grunted and let his eyes fall closed again, but his breathing didn’t even out. He patted the empty strip of mattress next to him and murmured, “Come here.”

 

It didn’t seem right to refuse the request of a man who had been dying not all that long ago, so Harry pushed himself out of his chair and sat down on the mattress. Chakotay tugged on his sleeve, and finally Harry saw what he was getting at. The flush crept up the back of his neck again, but fondness warmed his chest and he couldn’t help but smile. He toed off his shoes and lay down next to Chakotay, who worked an arm under him and pulled him close.

 

“Better?” Harry asked in some amusement.

 

“Much.” Chakotay sighed through his nose, ruffling Harry’s hair, and his lips brushed Harry’s forehead as he spoke. “How was the trip?”

 

“Cold.”

 

“Mm.” Chakotay took a few moments to breathe, then added, “Missed you.”

 

Harry said nothing. Fifteen minutes later, Chakotay’s breathing evened out again, and he carefully extracted himself from the other man’s arms. He stayed awake for the rest of the night, one hand curled loosely around Chakotay’s, feeling relief with every inhale and trepidation with each too-long exhale.

 

Chakotay was released from Starfleet Medical five days later, grayer and twelve pounds lighter than he’d been a month ago.

 

“I need to remember this the next time I want to lose weight,” he joked weakly, but Harry shot him a glare that made him swallow the rest of his words. When they got back to the apartment, Chakotay shuffled off to bed and Harry sat down to call his parents and explain that he was canceling their dinner this week. He tried to keep his explanation as vague as possible, but his mother had a way of getting information out of him that no one else could, and her hand flew to her mouth when she heard the words _Terellian Fever_.

 

“I’ve tested negative, and so has the apartment. They had a team come out here and do a sweep,” Harry reassured her. “Wherever he picked it up from, it isn’t here. They think it might be the Academy, but so far they haven’t found patient zero.

 

“Unless you’re living with him,” his father pointed out solemnly. Harry rolled his eyes.

 

“Chakotay’s not in the habit of consuming Terellian hogs, so I doubt he's going to to turn out to be the source of a potential outbreak. He doesn’t even eat meat, remember? Look, I have to go. I’ll call again later this week.”

 

“They still don’t know where I got it from?”

 

Harry looked up and sighed. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

 

“I’ve been flat on my back for almost ten days. I can stand for a bit.” Chakotay crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. His sleep-shirt and pants hung loosely on his frame now. “You okay?”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Really? Because if someone I cared about almost died from his own stupidity, I’d be spitting mad right now.”

 

“You’re not me.” Harry pushed himself to his feet and walked over to Chakotay. He kissed his cheek and squeezed his arm. “Go to bed. You need actual sleep, not what passes for it in the hospital.”

 

“Do you want to know what happened?”

 

“If you want to tell me.”

 

Chakotay narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t going to ask?”

 

No, Harry hadn’t planned on it. Because it would only make him mad, and that would just lead to a fight, and the last thing his brittle nerves needed right now was a fight. He didn’t want to be mad at Chakotay and couldn’t stand when Chakotay was mad at him. He just wanted this all to go away and for life to get back to normal.

 

“I don’t really want to talk about this right now,” Harry said. “Please.”

 

“There are a lot of things you don’t want to talk about,” Chakotay said. “Why is that?”

 

“Leave it, Chakotay.”

 

“You honestly can’t expect me to -”

 

“Yes, I can!” Harry bellowed at him. “I told you I didn’t want to talk about it, and I don’t! You know why? Because all that’s ever going to show us is that this isn’t going to work, it was _never_ going to work, and we were stupid to even try!”

 

“You really think that?” Chakotay asked softly.

 

“I never said I wanted it to be true, but it is,” Harry said. “Come on, Chakotay, think about it. This is what it is because we’ve got no one else. Because I killed everyone we cared about on _Voyager_ , and we’re all that’s left. Of course we would - would gravitate towards each other. Who else could understand how fucked up we both are by all that happened?”

 

“You think I would just walk out on you?”

 

Harry snorted. “Be honest with yourself for a second. In any other place, in any other time, would this have worked? Certainly not on _Voyager_. And I figure - well, I _like_ the way things are right now. I shouldn’t, but I do. So why bother with fighting when I don’t want to upset what I - what we have? So no, I don't want to talk about this Terellian Fever thing anymore. I don't want to get into an argument with you over it. I just want to leave it be. Please.”

 

Chakotay stared at him for a long moment. Harry could see the turmoil in his eyes, could see that there was _so much_ he wanted to say, but he reined in his thoughts and merely nodded.

 

“Okay.” He had the advantage of height in their relationship, and he kissed Harry on the forehead without having to go up on the balls of his feet. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you later.”

 

\----

 

Despite that show of strength his first day back in the apartment, Chakotay was still horribly weakened by his ordeal. He slept most of the next three days, staying conscious long enough at a time to eat and answer some messages from the Academy before going back to bed again. Harry called the assistant chair in Chakotay’s department and told her he would be out for at least a week; she responded that they had already planned for that, and told Harry to pass along good wishes from the rest of the staff.

 

Chakotay’s sister came to visit them five days after Chakotay’s release, her children in tow. She had finally managed the three children Chakotay said she had always wanted - Vivek, who was ten now; Nikau, who was six; and baby Meira, not quite a year.

 

Harry was secretly annoyed, though he wasn’t about to say anything. But honestly, having to entertain four additional people while he was supposed to be recovering from a serious illness was just impossible for Chakotay. It helped that Harry was there, but only slightly, because he had never met any of them before and the real purpose of Aiyana’s visit was to see her brother. And to berate him, apparently.

 

“I don’t know what the hell you were thinking, I really don’t,” Aiyana seethed, pacing the main room while Chakotay sat on the sofa with the baby in his lap.

 

“Aiyana,” he said warningly, glancing at the two boys on the other side of the room. She waved a hand dismissively.

 

“They hear worse at home,” she said flippantly. “Why the hell didn’t you call me?”

 

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Chakotay said calmly. “I thought it was just a cold.”

 

“A _cold_?”

 

“And by the time it progressed into something much worse, I had already fallen unconscious,” Chakotay went on. “That’s the danger of Terellian Fever, Aiyana. You know that.”

 

Meira looked up at him and made a grab for his nose. Chakotay offered her his finger, which she happily stuck in her mouth.

 

“And then there’s _this_ one,” Aiyana said, whirling on Harry, “who’s off gallivanting in the mountains while you’re _dying_ -”

 

“Gallivanting?” Harry repeated.

 

“Aiyana, that’s _enough,_ ” Chakotay said sharply, eyes blazing. “You don’t talk to him like that!”

 

“What, I can’t talk about your little _boy toy_ like the irresponsible idiot that he is -”

 

Chakotay stood abruptly and deposited Meira in Harry’s lap.

 

“Aiyana, outside, _now_.”

 

And then Harry was left alone with the three siblings. Vivek and Nikau regarded him carefully. Harry gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and they eventually returned to the games on their PADDs. Chakotay and Aiyana retreated to the balcony, and though Harry couldn’t hear them once the glass doors were shut, he could see their agitated body language.

 

At that moment, Meira started to cry. Harry automatically got to his feet, drawing Meira closer to him and rocking her in his arms.

 

“Hey, don’t cry,” he said in a falsely cheerful voice. “What’s wrong, huh?”

 

He felt her diaper - wet, but not foul-smelling. He took her into the guest bedroom, where Chakotay had long ago installed a changing table for Aiyana’s children, and changed her. He’d never done so before, but he’d learned enough from being around friends who had children at the Academy to know what to do. And then there was Naomi Wildman -

 

Harry felt nausea bubble in the back of his throat. It was one thing to know that he’d sent all his crewmates to their deaths, but an innocent child like Naomi, who hadn’t asked for any of that to be thrust upon her, who had trusted them _all_ to look after her -

 

He shook his head, trying to be rid of the terrible thoughts. He’d held Naomi when she was a baby no older than this. And then he’d killed her.

 

“Shh,” he whispered, picking up the freshly-changed baby and holding her to his chest. “Shh, it’s all right, I’ve got you. Doesn’t that feel better?”

 

He went back out into the main room. Vivek and Nikau hadn’t moved, and Chakotay and Aiyana were still out on the balcony. Harry sat on the sofa and picked up a toy from the floor that Meira had discarded earlier. He set her on the cushion next to him and watched her play for a bit.

 

Aiyana stormed in a moment later, Chakotay following her at a much slower pace. She picked up the baby and went into the guest bedroom for the diaper bag.

 

“Boys, come on,” she said as she came back out, the bag slung over her shoulder. “We need to get home. Dad’s probably wondering where we are.”

 

“Aiyana -”

 

“I’ll see you next month, Chakotay.” She gave him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and stalked out of the apartment, her sons following her after giving Chakotay a quick hug.

 

When they were finally alone, Chakotay turned to Harry and said, “I’m so sorry -”

 

“Don’t worry about it.”

 

“I can’t _believe_ that she would say those things!” Chakotay fumed, ignoring him. “And _now_ , of all times.”

 

“She’s just upset -”

 

“ _You_ saved my life!” Chakotay went on, picking up steam. “I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you, but all she can see is that I’ve taken up with - with -”

 

“With a boy toy?” Harry supplied dryly. Chakotay finally looked at him.

 

“She means well,” he said finally. “She just - it’s hard when it’s just the two of us, I guess. I mean, she’s got the kids now, and her husband, but I don’t think she’ll ever let go of the fear that I’m going to be taken from her. She watched our father get killed, and our mother died when I was with the Maquis. It’s been hard on her.”

 

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Harry said.

 

Chakotay’s face hardened. “But she doesn’t get to call you that, or dismiss you as an important part of my life. I’ve told her that she and the children are no longer welcome in my home if that’s how she’s going to behave.”

 

Harry blinked at him. “What?”

 

“If she wants me to be a part of their lives, she’s going to have to accept that you’re part of mine.”

 

“But - you love those kids.”

 

This was getting uncomfortably close to another topic they had avoided all these years, one that Harry was sure he would have to face sooner later. Chakotay had always wanted children, had never made a secret of that even back on _Voyager_. Once upon a time, even Harry had seen himself as a father, but that dream went down with _Voyager_. Now the only thing he cared about was figuring out what happened to their ship. He didn’t have the time or the emotional capacity for fatherhood, and even if he did, he couldn’t bring himself to discuss it with Chakotay. Fatherhood meant settling down and giving up; meant resigning himself to the fact that he would never find their ship, and would never atone for his mistakes.

 

“I’ll always love them,” Chakotay said quietly. “That will never change. But I lo-”

 

“Don’t,” Harry said quickly, putting up a hand. His heart pounded. Suddenly, he saw where this was going. “Please.”

 

He couldn’t bear to hear Chakotay say those words, not now. Chakotay obligingly fell silent, though there was pain in his eyes.

 

“I’m going to bed,” Chakotay said finally, and Harry breathed an inward sigh of relief. “Unless -”

 

“No, I’m fine. I don’t need anything. Get some sleep.” Harry gave him a kiss. “For God’s sake, you were the one dying not a week ago…”

 

It was a weak joke and fell flat, but Chakotay mustered up a smile for him anyway.

 

“Harry, what it was I wanted to say… I know you don’t want to hear it, but please know that I do mean it. With everything that I am, I _mean_ it.”

 

Harry knew. He gripped Chakotay’s shoulder. “Go to bed. I’ll be there in a bit.”


	6. 2383-2384

Rain in San Francisco wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Still, Harry was caught unawares when he left Headquarters that evening. Sometime between going in for his meeting and leaving again, the gorgeous sunset had clouded over. The swollen sky opened up when he was barely halfway home, and by then it was no use to get a hovercab.

 

He was drenched by the time he got back to the apartment, which gave him an excuse to be occupied in the shower when Chakotay got home. He toweled off after and dressed slowly; then, steeling himself, he stepped out into the main room.

 

Chakotay was contemplating something on the computer, shoulders hunched and hands braced on the desk. Harry paused for a moment in the doorway, watching him. He loved the furrow that appeared between Chakotay’s brows when he was thinking, the streaks of silver in his hair, the way he chewed the inside of his cheek when he was considering a problem.

 

God, how he adored this man.

 

He moved into the room. Chakotay looked up and gave him a smile Harry didn’t deserve.

 

“There you are,” he said. “Eaten yet?”

 

Harry shook his head. “No.”

 

Chakotay smiled. “Good. I was thinking we should go out tonight. There’s that new restaurant down by the wharf –”

 

“I resigned.” Harry cleared his throat. “My commission, that is. I resigned my commission today.”

 

Chakotay looked surprised for a moment before he managed to conceal it. “I see.”

 

“They wouldn’t listen,” Harry said, nearly tripping over his words in his haste to get them out. “All those admirals, sitting safe behind their desks on Earth, deciding that it wasn’t _worth it_ to rescue their own people. To hell with them! Every one of them shook my hand, told me how sorry they were and how happy they would be to help me out if I ever needed it. And Paris! Leaving his own son to rot in the Delta because he can’t be bothered to get up off his fat ass –”

 

Chakotay crossed the room and took Harry’s hands in his own, stilling their movements. Harry ground to a halt. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t said to Chakotay before. They stared at one another for a moment while Harry drew deep lungfuls of air.

 

Finally, Chakotay said, “Come on. You need some food.”

 

But they didn’t go down to the wharf. Harry didn’t take much notice of his surroundings until they were almost halfway to the Academy. He turned in his seat to shoot Chakotay an accusing look, but Chakotay just shook his head. “It’s not what you think. I'm not trying to convince you to come back.”

 

He’d never been to Chakotay’s office before, not in the four years they’d been living together – roughly half, he realized, of the years since their return to the Alpha. Equal to the time he’d spent on _Voyager_. A relatively short amount of time, all things considered, but now he couldn’t imagine it being any other way. Just like he couldn’t envision his life without _Voyager_ and, indeed, never had really learned how to live without them.

 

“Harry?”

 

He blinked, focusing on his surroundings again, and realized Chakotay was waiting for him to follow him out of the lift. They were on the thirteenth floor of Hammond Hall. Chakotay’s office was just down the corridor, he knew.

 

“Sorry.” He followed Chakotay out of the lift and down the corridor. “What exactly are we doing here?”

 

“I want to show you something.” Chakotay keyed in the code for his door. It slid aside, and Harry followed him into the office.

 

“Whoa.” Harry stopped in the doorway. “Not bad for a Maquis.”

 

Chakotay snorted. “I think they’d do just about anything to keep me grounded. They don’t want to risk me getting out into space and wreaking havoc again.”

 

The room they’d stepped into was roughly the size of the main room of their apartment, if Harry had to hazard a guess. A row of bookshelves lined one wall, and there were tables and comfortable chairs arranged neatly in clumps around the room. A small replicator in the corner completed the waiting area.

 

“Sometimes this doubles as a lounge for the tactics students if they need a place to go between classes,” Chakotay said. “It’s a good study space. Hello, Tessa.”

 

Harry hadn’t noticed until now the woman sitting at a table in the far corner of the room. She had a mix of material books and PADDs spread out on the table in front of her. She got to her feet and came over, smiling.

 

“Hello, Chakotay,” she greeted warmly. She looked at Harry and put out here hand. “Hi, I’m Tessa.”

 

“Hi,” Harry said warily. He gripped her hand briefly. “Harry Kim.”

 

“Tessa is one of my teaching assistants,” Chakotay explained. “Her degree is in astrophysics and astrogation.”

 

“Then what’s she doing in the Tactics department?” Harry asked. The question was sharp, but he didn’t care. He didn’t like feeling that there was a bombshell about to be dropped on him.

 

“I was more interested in the professor than the topic itself,” Tessa said, still wearing that same warm smile.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“She means because I was on _Voyager_ ,” Chakotay said hastily, finally sensing that this probably didn’t look good.

 

“I’ve always had an interest in your ship, ever since it first disappeared. It _fascinated_ me,” Tessa said.

 

“She’s the brightest student I’ve had yet,” Chakotay went on. “So I decided to have her help me with a little project. Tessa, would you mind showing us what you’ve been working on?”

 

There were two doors that led to rooms off the main waiting area. One of these doors, Harry assumed, was Chakotay’s actual office.

 

The other, as it turned out, was a lab.

 

“Well, that’s not Academy-issue furniture,” Harry said dryly as he surveyed the room. Floor-to-ceiling computer banks and consoles covered one wall, and a table with a holo-projector dominated the middle of the room. A small model of _Voyager_ sat in the middle of this table.

 

“It’s a holographic simulator, actually,” Tessa said. “Not as powerful as a holodeck, but it suits my needs.”

 

“What are you doing with it?” Harry asked.

 

“She’s trying to recreate the slipstream drive,” Chakotay said. “Not a functional version of it, but a simulation based on our accounts.”

 

“It’s technology that’s completely foreign to our quadrant, so it’s a slow process,” Tessa said. “And I don’t even have schematics for it. I only know what it was capable of from the data that was pulled from the _Delta Flyer_.”

 

“Which is housed downstairs,” Chakotay said. “Only certain members of the staff – and their teaching assistants – have access to it. It’s kept in a special room in the basement, to keep it preserved.”

 

Harry had never once wondered what happened to the _Flyer_. He supposed it would have been studied and then dismantled.

 

“So you’re using your access to the _Flyer_ and this room to – what? Figure out where _Voyager_ fell out of the slipstream drive?” Harry snorted. “Good luck with that. I’ve been trying for years.”

 

“We’ve been operating under the assumption all this time that _Voyager_ fell out of the slipstream drive within four seconds of receiving that last calculation,” Chakotay said. “Tessa has a different idea.”

 

“I think it’s possible that they actually fell out of the stream _before_ you sent that final calculation,” Tessa said. “Or they were in the process of slipping out of the stream, and that final calculation was what pushed them out entirely. The point is, even a difference of only a second could mean they were lost thousands of light years earlier than previously thought.”

 

“But we were in communication with them up until after I sent that final calculation,” Harry said. “How is that possible if you think they fell out of the stream _before_ the calculation was sent?”

 

Tessa shrugged. “It could have been a number of things. Maybe a communications delay. Maybe it’s possible to communicate for a brief time with someone outside of the slipstream. We know so little about this technology -”

 

“Yeah, I get it,” Harry said, waving away the rest of her words. He turned to Chakotay. “So this is what you’ve been working on all this time. All those late nights and unexpected meetings?”

 

“Not always,” Chakotay said. “But sometimes, yes.”

 

“And you didn’t tell me because?”

 

Chakotay met his gaze steadily, despite the warning in Harry’s tone. “Because I hoped you would get beyond this. I thought it would drag things out needlessly for you. If we found something promising, then I would tell you. If not, then you didn’t have to know and wouldn’t have to go through that all over again.”

 

Harry crossed his arms. “Well, since we’re being honest with each other. I’ve been working on trying to fix the mistake in my calculations for the past three years.”

 

Chakotay opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. After a beat, he turned to Tessa and said, “Would you excuse us?”

 

“Sure thing,” she said. “See you tomorrow, Chakotay.”

 

She left. When the doors slid shut behind her, Harry said, “She’s pretty. Reminds me of Seska.”

 

“Don’t,” Chakotay snapped.

 

“Come on, Chakotay, this can’t have been a surprise to you,” Harry said. “I’ve been hounding admirals since the day they called off the search – ”

 

“Keeping _Voyager_ fresh in their minds is one thing. Torturing yourself over something that happened eight years ago –”

 

“So I shouldn’t mention that I’ve been doing my own research into when _Voyager_ might have fallen out of the slip stream drive?” Harry interrupted. “That I’ve spent entire evenings in my off-months camped out in simulation labs here on campus?”

 

Chakotay glared at him for a moment, then sighed, pushing a hand through his hair.

 

“Spirits, look at the pair of us,” he muttered.

 

Harry went over to one of the computers and powered it up. “Has she found anything of use yet?”

 

“Depends on your definition of that,” Chakotay said, joining him. “She’s made a good deal of progress in simulating precisely what happened that day. But it hasn’t gotten us any closer to finding the ship.”

 

He put a hand on the back of Harry’s shoulder. “I wanted to show you this because I thought it might help.”

 

 “Help what?” Harry demanded, turning to face him. Chakotay’s hand dropped from his shoulder.

 

“Help you put some things to rest. You can walk away from Starfleet without feeling guilty, Harry. There are still people out there looking for _Voyager_. You don’t have to -”

 

“You think this will help me get over it,” Harry said incredulously. “All this time, you’ve just been hoping I’d get over it. Move on. Resume my life. _Forget_ about what happened.”

 

“I never said -”

 

“How can you expect me to get over it when you never gave me the chance!” Harry roared at him. “You took the fall, you took the blame, and I was supposed to play along with the stupid story that I had nothing to do with it and it was all your fault! But it was mine, Chakotay, and I can’t even - my _parents_ don’t even know. How was I supposed to get past this when there’s _no one_ I can talk to about it? How can you expect me to put that day behind me when I’m the only one who knows it was my fault? For fuck’s sake, don’t you think our crewmates are owed that much? That _I_ keep remembering, if nothing else. That I keep fighting for them.”

 

Chakotay looked stricken. “Harry -”

 

He tried reaching for him. Harry slapped his hand away.

 

“And don’t even get me started on _you_ ,” he snarled. “You’re just so fucking _content_ with the way things are. You’ve got your comfortable job and nice apartment and pretty young assistant - what is she, twenty-five? Thirty?”

 

“Harry…”

 

“You’d just be so fucking _happy_ to live out the rest of your days like this!”

 

“Yes, I would!” Chakotay finally snapped at him. “I _would_ be happy to live the rest of my life like this, as long as you were in it! I want to have a future with you, build a family with you, grow old with you! Is that so horrible? It was an awful thing that happened to our ship, it was, but it’s over and done. You can’t keep living in the past, Harry! There’s nothing you can do to change it.”

 

Chakotay’s shoulders sagged. He looked defeated.

 

“Some days, you’re just so far away,” he continued softly. “You’re here, but you’re not. And I don’t know what to do anymore. It’s been eight years. I just want to have you _here_. With me.”

 

“Then this isn’t going to help.” Harry paced over to the window and braced his hands on the sill. “I’ve signed on to a mining vessel. It’s departing for K’ves sector in three weeks.”

 

The words came out so casually, as though he hadn’t wrestled with the idea for months. As though the idea of going back into space hadn’t kept him up too many nights to count.

 

He could tell, even in the silence that followed his words - or perhaps _from_ the silence - that Chakotay was crushed. In a moment, he would quickly bury the feeling as he so often did and ask how he could help.

 

“Don’t.”

 

Harry was so surprised by the soft word that he turned around. “What?”

 

Chakotay visibly swallowed.

 

“Don’t,” he said, still just as soft. “Please don’t go.”

 

Harry gaped at him. “Chakotay -”

 

“It was hard enough when you were spending a month at a time in the mountains or the desert doing your damnedest to get yourself killed,” Chakotay whispered. “But a _mining_ vessel? Spirits, Harry, please don’t do this.”

 

“I can handle the work,” Harry said. “Hell, I’m _exactly_ what they’re looking for. And the vessel I chose will be within spitting distance of the Hirogen relay network. We know that’s the most promising area of space to look for _Voyager_ -“

 

Chakotay turned on his heel and stormed from the room. Harry went after him. Catching up to Chakotay, he grabbed his elbow and spun him around.

 

“I’m doing this, Chakotay,” he hissed. “I’m not asking your fucking permission, I am _doing_ this.”

 

“Never once have I told you that you needed to _ask my permission_ before doing something,” Chakotay snarled. “I hated it every time you went into space and every time you went into the desert, but I never said you couldn’t do it, and I’m not doing that now! Stop treating me like the enemy because I care about you, Harry. You want to go back into space, fine. You want to go on a mining vessel, fine. You want to keep picking at an old wound, fine. You know how I feel about it, so there’s really nothing else to say. Do what you have to do, and I’ll be here when you get back.”

 

He yanked his arm from Harry’s grasp and stormed out of the office.

 

\----

 

Conditions aboard the _Marguerite_ were better than Harry had been expecting. Sure, his bed was a hammock anchored between a post and a wall, and his cabin wasn’t so much a cabin as it was a room that held six other men, but he had running water and fresh meals, so there wasn’t much he could complain about.

 

The work was grueling. It was as though he had embarked on a year-long survivalist training session instead of a thirty-day one. He endured well enough for the first three months, but his body had grown used to, if not the physical breaks of his off-months, then the mental ones. His shifts were fourteen hours long, most of which were spent working in a confining space suit on an asteroid. He had to be alert every moment of every shift, for the smallest misstep would send him to his death. And it wouldn’t be a quick one, either. Micrometeoroids were a constant threat. If they penetrated his suit, he would be dead within a minute. If his tether broke, he would drift off endlessly into space. _Marguerite_ didn’t have transporters or rescue pods, because they took up too much space and consumed far too much energy.

 

It was probably good, in the long run, that at the end of his shifts all he ever managed to do was shower and fall asleep. He had very little time to think, and even less time to read his messages or answer them. The final three weeks of his time on Earth had mostly been spent at his parents’ house. Chakotay hadn’t kicked him out - and, Harry knew, he wouldn’t - but he’d distanced himself emotionally from Harry. He kept spending long hours at the office, rising before Harry did in the morning and trying to come home after he’d gone to bed, so Harry had finally taken the hint and left.

 

_I knew that man was no good for you,_ his father had murmured, pulling Harry into a welcoming hug.

 

_There’s no one better than he is,_ was Harry’s knee-jerk response, and wasn’t that telling?

 

Chakotay did come to see him off at the port. They embraced as though nothing had happened, endless seconds passing while Harry kept his face pressed into Chakotay’s shoulder and fought down the impulse to ditch the assignment altogether. But he eventually recovered himself and pulled from Chakotay’s grip, and then he joined the others streaming up the gangway toward the ship.

 

They hadn’t spoken since then. If Chakotay had written him any messages, they were still unread. Harry didn’t know when he would get to them. More than that, he didn’t really know if he _wanted_ to read them.

 

Four months into his life as a miner, Harry suffered one of the dreaded micrometeoroid strikes. His tether held and his fellow miners got him safely into the ship, but there were several hours missing from his memory when he regained consciousness in _Marguerite_ ’s med bay. Hypoxia was the official diagnosis, which wasn’t serious, and after a night spent breathing from an oxygen canister he was allowed back on duty.

 

Two weeks after that, Harry was working in a crevasse when his shoulder seized up. He had to haul himself up to the surface of the asteroid one-handed, and that necessitated another night in the med bay. A week later, his knees swelled up so badly he couldn’t move, and he spent twenty-four hours confined to his hammock. Three days after that, stabbing pains in his shoulders, arms, and hands gripped him. He had to keep his mic muted for most of his shift, so that the others working with him on the asteroid wouldn’t hear his grunts and cries of pain.

 

The vertigo spell was the final straw. It happened while he was on the asteroid, and he couldn’t make sense of where he was. In his disorientation, he almost unhooked himself from the tether, and it was only the quick thinking of the man nearest him that saved his life. He spent three miserable days after that in the med bay waiting for his inner ear to correct itself. But even after the world around him stopped spinning, Harry wasn’t allowed back on the asteroid. The diagnosis was vague, because the equipment the vessel’s doctor had to work with wasn’t advanced. Extreme exhaustion and over-exertion was the best he could tell Harry.

 

_You’ll spend your time here or in your bunk,_ the severe doctor had informed him. _But you’re not stepping foot out that airlock for at least a week_.

 

And then Harry found that he had no choice but to read through his messages. Mining vessels didn’t have the distractions on them that Starfleet ships did. Harry couldn’t lose himself for days on the holodeck because there were no holodecks to begin with. There wasn’t even an observation deck. Just a galley, a med bay, a bridge, the cargo hold, and the crew rooms. Mining vessels were stark and efficient. They didn’t have many distractions on them because it was assumed that the crew would either be working or sleeping. Rec time was virtually unheard of.

 

The first message in his queue was, as expected, from his parents. Harry read through it slowly, and by the end of it was so exhausted that he put his PADD down and fell asleep for three hours.

 

The next message was also from his parents, as was the one after that. Harry started to skim through the letters, reading only a handful of phrases here and there. The letters were virtually always the same: his parents missed him, they couldn’t wait until he got home, and they were really _so pleased_ that he had finally left Chakotay.

 

The first letter from Chakotay appeared fourteen weeks into _Marguerite_ ’s journey. It was a vague, bland letter that talked about some of the dry politics happening within Chakotay’s department and then a little bit about the weather (rainy) before Chakotay signed off with _see you soon._

His next letter was dated a week after that, and it was much the same. Harry read it straight through anyway, absorbing every word. They started coming more frequently, until Chakotay was writing nearly every day. The letters were never very long – certainly not pages upon pages, like his parents’ – but the fact that Chakotay made the effort for him at all was touching. Very few mining vessels, especially ones as old as _Marguerite_ , had the ability to receive subspace audio and video messages. It was letters or nothing.

 

Harry had nothing to occupy him that long, endless week except for those letters, and he found himself composing mental replies. He was sorry for the way they’d left things before his departure. He was also still furious that Chakotay had kept the project from him, though enough time had passed that Harry could look at the situation somewhat critically. Part of his anger stemmed from the fact that Chakotay had kept something from him at all, but a good portion of it probably came from what he recognized now as jealousy over Tessa – even though he had no right to that jealousy, he knew. He and Chakotay had never put a name to what they had. Harry refused to give any portion of his life that kind of permanence, and Chakotay had probably sensed that.

 

But Chakotay was right. It had been eight – almost nine – years now. And now Harry had taken off for deep space once again, leaving Chakotay behind. With Tessa.

 

Harry let his eyes fall closed. Life was going to happen as it would. It wasn’t as though there was anything he could do to stop it, if that’s the way things between them were going to unfold.

 

He reached over the side of his hammock, and his fingers brushed an abandoned PADD on the floor. He picked it up.

 

_Hi, Chakotay,_ he started writing finally. _Got myself into a bit of a mess. Again. Bet you’re surprised to hear that…_

 

He wrote a four-screen letter that managed to say very little of substance. He talked a bit about his duties and glossed over the full extent of his injuries. He lied and said that he had the ‘flu, which was why he was out of commission for a few days (and bored out of his skull). On cramped vessels such as this one, where the crew shared quarters, illness was isolated as quickly as possible to prevent it spreading, even if it was something as minor as a cold or the ‘flu. Chakotay wouldn’t question the story, at least.

 

Harry was eased back into his duties after that. Three weeks passed before he was working his full shift again, and he welcomed the grueling work. Less time and energy for thinking at the end of the day. Chakotay wrote to him dutifully, and Harry replied sporadically. Most of his letters were little longer than a sentence or two. Sometimes they simply said, _Tired, will write tomorrow_. Once, after a night of insomnia that was followed by a brutal shift, his inhibitions were low enough that he wrote _Miss you like hell; love you more._ But he woke the morning after that before the crew’s messages were scheduled to be sent to Earth, and he removed the short letter from the queue.

 

More months passed, each as gray and dull as the last. Harry didn’t have any intentions of bonding with the crew, but it was impossible to avoid when they were all basically living in each other’s pockets. He got to know T’veth, a Vulcan, and Kyril, an Andorian. They slept in the two hammocks closest to his on the vessel. Then there was Beaton, who Harry had been paired with when they went out onto the asteroids - every miner needed to have a partner.

 

And then there was _Marguerite_ ’s captain, Jarod. Stern-faced and hard as granite, he worked as hard as any of his men. He manned the helm when needed, pulled long shifts in the boiling engine room, drilled the asteroids alongside his crew. He was never seen in the galley, the lone recreational area on the ship, but his face was far from an unfamiliar one. There wasn’t a thing he would ask of his men that he wasn’t willing to do himself.

 

He was the one standing nearest Harry on the asteroid one morning when one of the legs of the massive drill failed to catch. Instead of sinking itself deep into the asteroid to anchor the drill, when it was fired it ricocheted off the surface and then came slicing back down. Had they been on a planet with normal gravity, and had he not been wearing his bulky suit, Harry would have been able to move out of the way in time. The most he could do was angle his body away to minimize the damage. When the drill leg finally came into contact with the surface, it did so after going through his leg.

 

Harry was told later that Jarod had single-handedly sawed off the leg of the drill with the chromium cutter on his tool belt and lifted Harry bodily back into the _Marguerite_ , the length of metal still sticking out of his leg. Harry didn’t remember that, but then, about the only thing he could recall from the accident was the red haze. Blood from his wound, he found out later, that was circulating in the closed system of his suit.

 

It took them fourteen hours to remove the metal from his leg and piece the shattered limb back together. He wasn’t going to lose it, as they feared at first, but it was never going to be the same.

 

“You’ll be on your feet, standing, in two weeks,” the doctor said gruffly. “You’ll be walking in four. But will you mine again? No. Run? Perhaps. Walk again without a limp? Never.”

 

Confined to the small medical bay - the hammock wasn’t any good for his leg, and besides, he wasn’t mobile enough to get there on his own - Harry had little to distract him from the pain. Even the highest dosage of painkillers only dulled it to an ache, and that was only for an hour at the most. Harry sweated through shirt after shirt, balled his hands into fists so tight his nails bit into his palms, clenched his jaw so hard to keep from screaming that his head was constantly throbbing. When there was no one else in the medical bay, he could pull a pillow over his face and scream. It was his only relief.

 

Jarod came to see him one night seven days after his surgery. Harry exhausted and weak with agony. He hadn’t slept properly in days, and another endless night stretched before him. He wanted it to be over. He dreamed often of the doctor accidentally messing up his dosages, giving Harry far too much of the painkiller and sending him to a permanent rest. He’d almost begged it from the man, once or twice.

 

“Got some letters,” Jarod said, voice pitched low. He pressed a data stick into Harry’s hand, curled his fingers around it. “Twelve of ‘em, this past week. Anyone you want me to contact for you?”

 

Harry shook his head. He couldn’t speak. It was taking all of his concentration to keep his mind on the conversation, and all his energy not to scream.

 

Jarod considered him a moment, his expression inscrutable.

 

“He must be awful worried about you,” he said finally.

 

“He’s used to it,” Harry said on a hiss of breath, taking advantage of an exhale to get some words out.

 

Jarod’s hand on his shoulder was warm and solid. Harry could feel the thick calluses on Jarod’s fingers through his shirt. He shut his eyes and focused on the pressure of those fingers, trying to drown out the pain.

 

“What are you, thirty-five?” Jarod went on without waiting for an answer. “Don’t be such a fool, Kim, you aren’t young enough for that anymore. Time’ll come when you finally want to say these things to him, all these thoughts you won’t or can’t tell him now, only you’re going to turn around and he won’t be there anymore. And what the hell else are you going to do for the rest of this journey, anyway? Write him a damn letter.”

 

He left Harry alone with the letters, which Harry put aside until the dosage of painkillers wore off completely. Desperate for a distraction and having none available to him but the letters, he finally fumbled for the data stick and a PADD that had been left for him on his bedside table.

 

Of the letters, five of them were from his parents and six were from Chakotay. The twelfth was from an unknown sender, so Harry filed that one away for last. If he would read it at all, that is. Probably it was from some _Voyager_ fanatic.

 

He read through his parents’ letters first. They were all much of the same - wishing him well, hoping he would write back soon. Chakotay’s letters, though considerably shorter, were at least a little more varied. He’d gone on a couple of trips in the past few weeks - one to visit his sister, another to London for work - and wrote about each one. Harry found himself wishing he could be there with him.

 

He couldn’t summon the energy to write back, so there was nothing for him to do but look at the final letter. He sighed and opened it.

 

_Check Sector 171.4_

_Bearing 34 mark 42 mark 189_

_Third planet_

_-T_


	7. 2384-2385

The Vulcan gave him what Harry would call a wary look.

 

“You are not supposed to be out of bed,” he said finally.

 

Harry sighed. “I just need a favor, T’veth, okay? I need your help with something. Then it’s straight back to bed, I promise.”

 

T’veth looked once more at the PADD Harry had handed him. “There is nothing in this sector of any interest.”

 

“You know what sector that is?”

 

“Of course. It’s the Takara system,” T’veth said. “It’s located a few parsecs outside the Alpha Quadrant. Why is it of interest to you?”

 

“I think you know why,” Harry said, and T’veth gave him another long, unreadable look.

 

“Even if this yields the results you have been looking for,” he said finally, “what would be the point?”

 

“Peace of mind,” Harry said. “T’veth, please. You’re the only one on board who has unrestricted access to the ship’s sensors. We’re closer to this sector than any other ship, even if it is on the other side of our borders. I just - I need to know, okay?”

 

T’veth looked down at the PADD again.

 

“There are three planets in this system,” he said finally. “I would need to survey each of them in order to give you a conclusive answer about this. Given their respective rotations and orbital periods, it would take me approximately three weeks.”

 

Harry nodded. Time enough for him to get back on his feet and mobile again. He’d hobbled down here with the aid of a stolen cane from the med bay, but it had taxed him, and he knew the pain was going to return shortly with a vengeance. “I can help, too. If you can just get me the data, I can analyze it. Numbers, images, anything. It’s not like I’m doing anything else in the med bay.”

 

“You should be resting,” T’veth scolded again, and Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

 

“I really appreciate this,” he said instead, earnestly. “You have no idea. Keep me updated, and let me know when you have something for me to work on.”

 

T’veth nodded, and then glanced over Harry’s shoulder. A moment later, Harry heard what had alerted T’veth. The sound of the airlock. Second shift was coming off-duty, and third shift was about to begin.

 

“Come,” T’veth said, getting to his feet and putting a hand under Harry’s elbow to help him up. “We should get you back to the med bay before the doctor realizes where you’ve gone.”

 

“And Jarod,” Harry added, allowing himself to be led away.

 

The pain hit him in the middle of the night and didn’t let up for twelve hours. When Harry could finally think again, he composed a short note to Tessa.

 

_Thank you for the coordinates. Investigating now. Does Chakotay know?_

 

Her response didn’t come until two days later.

 

_No, he doesn’t know. I thought it best not to say anything until we knew something for sure. He hides it from you, but all these failures get to him. He wants to find this ship as much as you do. And I’m tired of giving him false hope._

 

_You should write to him._

 

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. He knew that he should write to Chakotay, at least give him a heads up about the injuries. But what else was there to say? He missed Chakotay terribly, but it might not be reciprocated. After the way they left things, Harry didn’t expect to be living in that apartment anymore once _Marguerite_ returned to Earth. He knew he was lucky that Chakotay was even speaking to him at all.

 

Days blended together in the med bay. Harry could sometimes hear the comings and goings of the shifts, but beyond that there was very little in the room to indicate the passage of time. He would sometimes fall asleep for mere minutes or for twelve hours at once, and it felt the same to him.

 

Over a week had passed since his conversation with T’veth, though he didn’t fully realize this until T’veth came to visit him with the first round of results.

 

“These are from the second planet in the system,” he said, handing a PADD to Harry. “It is L-class. I’ll have some more readings for you in a week’s time.”

 

Harry gave a grim nod. A Class L planet didn’t give the _Voyager_ crew much of a chance for survival, if indeed they had crashed there.

 

He spent the night and a good portion of the next day poring over the raw data from the sensors. It was a lot of information to sift through, and much of it went right over his head on the first read-through. He wished he had Tessa’s expertise on hand. Maybe he could send some of these results to her through the regular comm channels without alerting anyone in Starfleet about it. Encrypting it would just be suspicious, but this raw data looked innocuous enough by itself.

 

It didn’t help that Harry didn’t know exactly what he was looking for. A Class L planet was essentially a sheet of ice. If _Voyager_ had crash-landed on the planet, all evidence of it would have been wiped away by now. Ice didn’t carry the markings of trauma the way that rocky planet surfaces did. _Voyager_ would have melted the ice around it the moment it hit the surface, sinking below the ice as it turned to water. The water would have refrozen, and weather systems over the past ten years would have wiped away any evidence of gouges in the ice.

 

Harry hoped that, if Tessa was right and this was the system they should be looking at, _Voyager_ would be on one of the other two planets. Both of them had solid surfaces. There was better chance of finding the ship there - and better chance for the crew’s survival. You couldn’t make a home on a sheet of ice, no matter how resourceful you were.

 

He fell asleep with the PADD in his hand sometime in the middle of second shift. When he woke, it was because T’veth was standing over his bed and shaking his shoulder lightly.

 

“You need to take a look at this,” he said without preamble as Harry blinked up at him slowly. He was holding out another PADD. The one Harry had been reading off had fallen to the floor.

 

“Right,” Harry said. He cleared his throat and pushed himself into a sitting position. T’veth manipulated the controls on the bed so that the mattress rose with him. “What am I looking for, exactly?”

 

“You’ll notice it,” T’veth said. Harry squinted at the screen, trying to bring his sleep-blurred eyes into focus.

 

T’veth had imaged a portion of the Class L planet, Harry saw. It was an area that was high in the mountains. Harry flicked through the screens, each one zooming in on the mountain range until the image was focused on a valley between two of the peaks. The resolution wasn’t the greatest, but after a moment spent squinting at the screen, Harry finally noticed something unusual. There was a dark blur there, almost like a smudge of ink.

 

“What is that?” Harry asked, pointing at it.

 

“Go to the next screen.”

 

Harry did so, and froze. That wasn’t a smudge on the ice at all, but a distinct shape beneath it. Harry stared at the familiar oblong shape, his mouth dry.

 

“That’s - the hull of a ship,” he said finally.

 

“It is impossible to read the markings on it, given the distance and the thickness of the ice,” T’veth said. “But I was able to measure the hull and warp nacelles. Of all the unaccounted for Starfleet ships, this matches _Voyager_ best.”

 

“What’s your margin of error?” Harry heard himself asking.

 

“I can be almost eighty percent certain, give or take three percent,” T’veth said.

 

“Could there be any other explanation for this?” Harry asked.

 

T’veth shook his head. “None that I am aware of. I have tried to come up with alternate scenarios, but there is nothing else that fits the data. This is _Voyager_.”

 

\----

 

Harry spent his final weeks aboard _Marguerite_ on autopilot. He went through the motions of his duties, his existence shrinking down to just words. Shower. Dress. Walk. Shower. Sleep. He ate when he remembered and slept for nine and a half hours of his allotted ten free hours every day. He sent his findings to Starfleet and then instructed the ship’s captain to hold all of his messages, if indeed any came in for him. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, and he especially didn’t want anyone to reach out to him, least of all Chakotay.

 

He had found them. They were dead, and he had killed them. They had been dead all this time, probably within minutes of falling out of the slipstream drive. By the time Harry had woken up in Starfleet Medical after being taken from the _Delta Flyer_ , they had been dead for days.

 

There was no one to greet him at the port when he stepped foot in San Francisco, not that he had expected someone to be there. If he hadn’t burned his final bridge with Chakotay prior to departure, he certainly had by now. Chakotay had been in denial all these years about Harry’s involvement in the deaths of their crewmates, but now the hard evidence was there for the whole Federation to see.

 

He got into a hovercab and gave the first address that came to mind. When he stepped out of it twenty minutes later, he blinked blankly up at the building in front of him, uncomprehending. He felt as though he was moving through molasses, and it took him an age to form a coherent thought.

 

 _Chakotay’s building._ Right. Harry tried not to think too hard about why this was the address he gave when he could think of nothing else. He adjusted the strap of his bag where it dug into his shoulder and went inside.

 

The passcode for the apartment - the registry number for _Val Jean_ \- hadn’t changed. Harry had half-hoped that this was still too early for Chakotay, that he would still be at work and Harry wouldn’t have to deal with the inevitable unpleasant encounter, but luck was not on his side. Not that it often was, these days.

 

Chakotay was sitting at the computer terminal in the main room, hunched over a pile of PADDs. He looked up when Harry entered the apartment. HIs eyes widened fractionally. He shoved his chair back and got hastily to his feet.

 

Harry couldn’t think of a thing to say. _I’m sorry_ was trite and _hello_ was absurd. Chakotay’s name caught on the tip of his tongue and didn’t make it past his lips. His arm was going numb with the weight of his bag, but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t react, couldn’t _think_.

 

Chakotay crossed the room in three quick strides, his expression dark. Harry tensed, bracing himself for a blow, but then strong arms went around his waist and he was lifted nearly off his feet. The bag dropped to the floor, and his arms instinctively went around Chakotay’s neck, holding on tight.

 

“ _Harry_ ,” Chakotay breathed against the side of his throat. “Spirits, I missed you.”

 

The tension drained from Harry’s body at once. His limbs were suddenly too heavy, his bones leaden, and he gratefully let Chakotay accept his weight in the embrace. He clung to Chakotay, trying to ignore the tendrils of pain snaking up his leg.

 

“They’re -” He stopped, the words catching in his throat. Another wave of pain gripped him, and he managed to stifle his groan against Chakotay’s shoulder.

 

Chakotay must have taken it for a sob, for his hold on Harry tightened. White-hot pain shot down his leg as he was jostled, and this time Harry had to push him away.

 

“What’s wrong?” Chakotay searched his face, eyes wide with concern. Harry almost laughed at the absurdity of the question, then realized that Chakotay had read the agony in his face.

 

“Chair,” Harry rasped. He could tell from the spasms in his leg that it wasn’t going to hold his weight once Chakotay let him go, and the last thing he wanted was to fall flat on his ass in front of Chakotay.

 

Chakotay steered him into a nearby chair, then got him a cold glass of water from the replicator.

 

“Had a bad run of luck on _Marguerite_ ,” Harry said. His voice was less of a croak now, but even to his own ears it sounded weak. Chakotay pulled up a chair of his own. “Couple of accidents.”

 

“What kind of accidents?”

 

Harry had to wrack his memory to answer that one properly. The big ones came to mind easily enough, but he’d forgotten about the couple of micrometeoroid strikes he’d suffered and the random swelling of his joints.

 

“I’m always going to have the limp,” Harry said softly. “And the pain. It’s not so bad most days, but it’s chronic. I’ll never be without it.”

 

“You never said,” Chakotay said quietly.

 

“I know. I didn’t know how to say it. Anyway, I just came for my things,” Harry said finally, tearing his gaze from Chakotay’s. “I won’t take too long.”

 

“Your parents already took them,” Chakotay said.

 

Harry looked at him. “They did what?”

 

“About a month after you left on _Marguerite_ , they came to pack up your things. I asked them to wait until I had a chance to talk to you, but they were insistent. And then when I didn’t hear from you, I thought you had asked them to do it.”

 

Hot shame flooded Harry’s gut. “I didn’t.”

 

“I know,” Chakotay said gently. “When I got your first letter, I knew. But there didn’t seem much point in bringing it up until you got back. Are you - do you want to move out?”

 

“No,” Harry said, surprising even himself with his quick answer. “No, I really don’t. I thought you might want me to.”

 

“Never.”

 

How simple he made it seem. He wanted Harry here, and Harry wanted to be here, so why make it any more complicated than that?

 

“Chakotay, they’re dead,” Harry said finally. “All of them. They never made it past the Takara system.”

 

“Harry, it’s -”

 

“Not my fault, I know,” Harry said wearily. It wasn’t the truth, but he was tired of arguing it with Chakotay.

 

“I made my peace with what happened a long time ago, Harry,” Chakotay said quietly. “I’m not going to say that I forgave you, because that implies that I held you to blame in the first place. But I made peace with it. I just wish I could help you do the same.”

 

“I don’t know _how_ you could possibly have made _peace with it,_ ” Harry said, spitting the phrase. He got painfully to his feet and limped over to the wide window. He leaned his forearm against a pane of glass and rested his forehead against it, staring out at the city lights. Chakotay came to stand behind him. “And I don’t know how you can expect me to do the same.”

 

“The way I see it, we all should have died in the Badlands,” Chakotay said quietly. “Or we never should have survived our encounter with the Caretaker. But we did. We defied the odds, and we all got an extra four years on life. You didn’t cut anyone’s life short, the way I see it. It was as though - as though we were all living on borrowed time anyway. Every moment after the Caretaker was a gift. You didn’t do anything _wrong_ , Harry.”

 

Something inside of him broke. Harry could feel physical agony shoot through his chest, and he sank to his knees. Chakotay was at his side in an instant, his hand warm on Harry’s shoulder. Harry struggled to draw breath, and there was an odd tingling sensation on his face.

 

“Harry?” Chakotay asked.

 

Harry’s limbs weren’t responding correctly. They felt too heavy; wouldn’t listen to his brain’s commands. He finally got a hand up and swiped it across his face. His fingers came away wet.

 

“Oh, Harry,” Chakotay said softly.

 

Harry sagged against him, and wept into his shoulder.

 

\-----

 

He woke to the sound of birds, and thought for a moment that he was still dreaming. Harry rolled onto his stomach, then realized that he _could_ roll onto his stomach - because he was lying in a real bed.

 

It all came flooding back to him then, from his disembarkation to coming back to the apartment. He remembered especially vividly breaking down in Chakotay’s arms like a child. Of all things, why did _that_ have to be what he recalled best?

 

His head ached and his tongue felt swollen. His eyelids were heavy and his gaze blurry. When he sat up, the room swam, and his stomach protested the movement. He hadn’t had anything to eat since yesterday morning. At least if he was sick, he wouldn’t be bringing anything up.

 

All of the things he left behind in the apartment were now at his parents’, and Harry made a mental note to contact them later today about that. He didn’t envy the fight he knew they were going to have. In the meantime, he used Chakotay’s soap in the shower - all of those toiletries had been provided by _Marguerite_ , meaning he had never brought any with him - and changed into one of the casual outfits from his bag. Everything he wore on _Marguerite_ was functional, even when not on-duty. The outfit therefore wasn’t something he would wear as an everyday citizen of San Francisco, but it would do for now.

 

He went out into the main room, and he found Chakotay sitting at the table. He was reading a PADD and eating breakfast. Harry glanced outside. He didn’t have a chronometer handy, but judging from the sun, he guessed it was well past nine.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the office?” he asked. His voice was a thin rasp. He sounded awful, worse even than he did last night. But somehow his chest was lighter.

 

Chakotay gave him a wry smile. “It’s Saturday.”

 

“Oh. Right.” Harry sat down across from him, grateful for the chair even though he hoped it didn’t show too much in his face. His leg was acting up. It always took a couple of hours after waking for it to feel somewhat normal again. Before then, it was stiff and sore.

 

“Breakfast?”

 

Harry honestly didn’t know if he could stomach anything solid right now. “Tea would be great.”

 

Chakotay fetched him his usual blend. Harry held the warm mug gratefully between chilled hands - it seemed as though he could never get warm anymore - and asked, “What are you reading?”

 

“Just some medical journals.” Chakotay then looked at him, sheepish. “I was reading up on your injuries.”

 

Harry wasn’t surprised. “Anything interesting?”

 

“Nothing you probably don’t already know,” Chakotay said. “Do you have everything you need?”

 

“I need to stop by Starfleet Medical for some medications. They only gave me enough on _Marguerite_ to get me through these last few months,” Harry said.

 

“And… physical therapy?” Chakotay asked it almost tentatively, as though Harry was going to ream him for it. A year ago, he might have.

 

“I set those appointments up already. Three times a week for the next six months.” Harry must have grimaced, for Chakotay looked sympathetic.

 

It took three shots of an analgesic and another hour before Harry trusted his legs. He called his parents to say that he was coming by, and that he would be staying through dinner. Chakotay offered to come with him, but Harry shook his head.

 

“I think it’s better if I do this alone this time,” he said. He patted Chakotay’s shoulder. “I’ll bring you to dinner next time.”

 

His parents, predictably, were first overjoyed to see him, and then severely disappointed when he said that it wasn’t because he was moving back in. His mother concealed it better than his father did, and Harry endured a very long dinner wherein his father listed every single one of Chakotay’s perceived faults - everything from his criminal background to the fact that he lived on the ninth floor of an apartment building, which was going to be too difficult on Harry’s leg.

 

They hadn’t unpacked any of the boxes they picked up from the apartment, so all Harry needed to do was pile them by the door and book the movers who would come and transport them to San Francisco the next day.

 

“I’ll see you in two weeks,” Harry said to his parents as he prepared to leave. His mother begged him not to go, and his father had retreated into a stony silence. “Be sure to make enough for four - I’m bringing Chakotay to dinner as well.”

 

Chakotay was in the bedroom when Harry got home, hanging up his freshly-laundered uniforms in the closet.

 

“That bad?” he asked when he saw Harry’s face.

 

“Not great,” Harry said. “But not terrible. My things will be here tomorrow.”

 

“Good. This place has been pretty bare recently.” Chakotay finished hanging the last of his clothes. “How about a walk?”

 

Harry sat down on the bed and stretched his stiff leg out, wincing. He asked in some bemusement, “A walk?”

 

“You need to exercise that leg,” Chakotay said.

 

Harry gave a huff of laughter, then paused, considering Chakotay.

 

“I’ve got a better idea,” he said finally.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Harry reached out and took Chakotay’s wrist, pulled him until Chakotay was standing between his knees. It was a tall bed; their hips were nearly flush. Chakotay framed Harry’s face with his hands and kissed him lightly.

 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly.

 

“You won’t,” Harry whispered. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

 

It was almost like starting all over again, learning what worked and what didn’t. Laying on his front was out of the question, and he couldn’t straddle Chakotay. For a while, it seemed as though it would work if he was on his side, Chakotay pressed up against him from behind. But then his leg cramped and seized, and Chakotay rolled him onto his back so that he could massage away the ache. And that was how Chakotay took him, too, even though it wasn’t one of their usual positions. Harry wondered idly why that was. Maybe because it felt so much more intimate to have Chakotay above him like this, so much more _exposed_. Perhaps his subconscious had known that all along, and subsequently steered him toward positions where he wouldn’t have to look Chakotay in the eye. Where he wouldn’t have to see the naked pleasure etched into the lines on Chakotay’s face, and know that he was the cause of it.

 

Harry didn’t need to take an analgesic before falling asleep that night, and for the first time in weeks, the pain didn’t wake him before morning.

 

\----

 

Harry soon came to hate Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. The days of his physical therapy sessions were always grueling, leaving him with an ache that he felt right down to his bones. But he couldn’t deny that it brought him solid results. By the time he was finished with his therapy sessions six months after his return, he could walk without a pronounced limp. It was there if people knew to look for it, but otherwise his gait seemed normal. His leg still ached on occasion, especially in inclement weather, but it was a far cry from where he’d been when he first disembarked from _Marguerite_.

 

“You’re going to have to keep up your exercises,” his physical therapist had warned him sternly at the end of his final session. “Or you risk undoing all the progress we made.”

 

Chakotay helped him with his exercises - four times a week, as instructed. Harry tried his best to wheedle out of them - “Come on, we can take a walk down by the wharf. It’s almost the same thing.” - but Chakotay would have none of it.

 

He _did,_ however, take Harry to bed as often as he could manage, always claiming that, “It works your leg in ways the exercises don’t.” Not that Harry needed much convincing.

 

Starfleet spent those months after Harry’s return Earthside in deep discussion about what to do now that they knew the location of _Voyager_. Hearings were convened. Petitions circulated. The family members wrote impassioned pleas to Starfleet Command, requesting that they retrieve the remains of the ship and crew. Chakotay offered to take a sabbatical from the Academy and personally man a mission out to the Takara sector, which was under no known jurisdiction. There were no governments, as far as they were aware, to ask permission of. It was a straightforward salvage mission.

 

It took Starfleet nine months of deliberation to decide against retrieving _Voyager_.

 

Harry couldn’t say that he was surprised. After years of letting him down, Starfleet wasn’t about to come through for him now. Chakotay, however, took it harder than Harry was expecting. He thought Chakotay would approach this with his usual infuriating rationality, but for once, Harry was the one trying to console him.

 

“They aren’t going to want to expend resources on a mission that takes a ship outside of our borders,” Harry told him one evening in their apartment. He was sitting cross-legged on a sofa cushion - he never thought he would ever be _so happy_ to be able to sit cross-legged - and cradling a hot mug of tea in two hands. Chakotay was next to him, forearms resting on his thighs as he hunched over and started sightlessly at the ground.

 

“I know,” Chakotay said quietly. “But I’d hoped -”

 

He broke off. Harry resisted pointing out that _hope_ hadn’t gotten them much of anything these past nine - almost ten - years.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, when he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was completely inadequate when it came to things like this. He didn’t know how to help Chakotay, how to make things better for him. Were their positions reversed, Chakotay would no doubt say something meaningful that Harry would chew over for days, but Harry wasn’t properly equipped to do the same. It was almost frightening, seeing Chakotay despondent like this.

 

“I just wanted to be able to bring them home,” Chakotay said finally.

 

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly. “I know.”

 

Chakotay went to shower. Harry stayed in the main room for a while longer. He had a message from his parents he’d been neglecting all day. He didn’t really want to read their platitudes now that the latest news about _Voyager_ had come through, but they would turn up on his doorstep if he didn’t answer them soon. He wrote back, thanking them for their condolences, and then saw that he had another message waiting for him. But he couldn’t see who the sender was, and when he pulled up the contents of the message, it was nonsense.

 

“What is it?” Chakotay asked as he came back into the room to retrieve one of his books. He’d obviously read something in the expression on Harry’s face.

 

“It’s - an encrypted message, I think,” Harry said.

 

“From who?”

 

“No idea.” Harry ran a couple of basic decryption protocols, but neither of them cracked the message. “This is going to take some time.”

 

“Let me know if it’s anything interesting.” Chakotay kissed the top of his head. “I’m off to bed.”

 

“Yeah, will do,” Harry said distractedly.

 

Dawn was breaking across the horizon when he next looked up from his computer screen. He rubbed his eyes wearily. He’d managed to figure out that the message had come from one Commander Barry Jenkins - the man who, before _Marguerite_ , had been the lieutenant Harry would run into on occasion in the lab he frequented. And just half an hour ago, he finally figured out what the message contained. It seemed that Starfleet had been conducting a survey mission out on the fringes of explored space - and, in the process, they had come across an obscure piece of Borg technology.

 

They were calling it a Borg temporal transmitter. Starfleet had yet to analyze it and wasn’t sure of its true potential, but enough data had been gathered from the node to say with reasonable certainty that it was used to communicate across timelines. Not travel - just communicate.

 

“Been at that all night?” Chakotay asked from the bedroom doorway.

 

“Yeah, kind of got carried away,” Harry said. He shut down the computer station. “Finally cracked it, though.”

 

“Was it something I should know about?”

 

“No,” Harry said, forcing a laugh he hoped sounded genuine. “No, it was nothing. Just an old friend from the Academy, having a bit of fun. I think he had a bit too much to drink last night.”

 

Chakotay snorted. “And decided to send you some encrypted porn, is that it? I haven’t heard of something like that happening since _I_ was at the Academy.”

 

“Yeah? And how long ago was that, again?” Harry asked, getting up from the desk and going to replicate some coffee. Chakotay followed him.

 

“Don’t even start, Kim,” Chakotay said warningly, but there was a smile in his voice. He seemed in a far better mood today, which was a relief. Harry didn’t know how to deal with pain that wasn’t his own, and it had hurt to see Chakotay in such a state.

 

“What time do you have to go in?” Harry couldn’t recall what day it was. Wednesday or Thursday, he thought. Chakotay’s schedule varied depending on the day.

 

“Took the day off,” Chakotay said. He looked almost sheepish. “I didn’t know if I could handle being there today. I just need a little - time.”

 

“Yeah.” Harry reached out and rubbed his shoulder. “I get it. We could go to the Gulf. Haven’t been there in ages.”

 

Besides, he thought as Chakotay went to get changed, the long shuttle ride would give him time to mull over Jenkins’ message.


	8. 2385-2386

 

The tenth anniversary of their return to the Alpha Quadrant dawned on a brilliant September morning. Harry had once loved the autumn, loved the smell of woodsmoke and the vibrant colors of the changing leaves, loved the way the light changed in September. But then the season was marred by his devastating mistake, and Harry looked on the coming months with only a bleak despair.

 

He rose early on this morning. Chakotay woke with the movement but rolled over and went back to sleep. Harry wished he could do the same - their bed seemed to be the only place lately where he could find refuge from the memories, and the knowledge of all that he needed to do. He showered, then went back into the bedroom to search for the outfit he needed today.

 

His dress uniform fit, though just barely. Harry contemplated his reflection in the mirror. Any weight he’d put on these past couple of years had settled on his face and around his midsection. It wasn’t much - he was still considered a fit man for his age - but it was noticeable to him. He’d let his hair grow out since returning home this time, and it was dusted with gray.

 

Chakotay appeared behind him. He rested a hand on Harry’s hip and kissed the side of his throat. “The uniform always suited you.”

 

“Thanks.” Harry turned around and kissed him. “You should get ready. They’re going to want the speakers there early.”

 

It was his first time attending one of these ceremonies. There was one every year to commemorate their return and mourn the loss of the crew. This was going to be the first ceremony since it had been confirmed that the _Voyager_ crew died.

 

This was also the first year that Chakotay hadn’t asked Harry to accompany him to the ceremony, and the first time Harry had volunteered to go. He knew why Chakotay was quiet on the subject - he didn’t know how Harry was going to handle it, now that the worst had been confirmed for them. Harry _needed_ to do this, even though the rest of the Federation believed that Chakotay was the one who transmitted the wrong calculations. He needed to do it for himself - and for the people he had killed.

 

Chakotay was eloquent as always in his speech. He was the last to deliver an address, and the most anticipated speaker. He came after a long line of admirals, and Harry could feel the crackle of anticipation go through the crowd as Chakotay took the podium. His speech was relatively short, but emotionally charged - at least, Harry assumed as much, judging by the teary-eyed crowd around him. He couldn’t bring himself to feel much of anything at the moment. His grief didn’t come to him at designated moments like this one.

 

There was a reception when it was over. Harry stood by Chakotay’s shoulder as he greeted Starfleet admirals and fellow co-workers, nodding politely when someone looked at him and occasionally running interference when too many people approached Chakotay at once. He scanned the room, picking out a few familiar faces among the sea of uniforms. Most of the surviving _Voyager_ family members were here - Seven’s aunt, Janeway’s sister, Naomi Wildman’s father. None of them approached Chakotay. Harry felt that pain deep in his chest, somewhere behind his sternum. All this, because Chakotay had taken the blame for him.

 

“So, you decided to make an appearance after all.”

 

Harry turned, and came face to face with Chakotay’s sister.

 

“Hello, Aiyana,” he said. Anything else he was tempted to say would have just started an argument, and he didn’t think he had the emotional capacity for that right now. Chakotay certainly didn’t.

 

“It takes you ten years to finally show your face at once of these things,” Aiyana said, “and he’s supposed to be _grateful_.”

 

“I never said that,” Harry said tiredly. He considered Chakotay’s sister for a moment. She never seemed to age, either, just like Chakotay. Tonight she was sans her children and, interestingly, her wedding ring.

 

Aiyana narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t like you.”

 

“You don’t? Wow. You’ve done a pretty good job of hiding it,” Harry said dryly. Aiyana glared at him.

 

“You’re going to get too old for him, you know,” she said, her tone biting. “What are you now, thirty-five?”

 

“Thirty-six.” Harry considered her for a moment; then, understanding dawned. A wave of unexpected pity washed over him.

 

“Just because that’s what happened to you,” he added, almost gently, “doesn’t mean that’s the case here. Your brother isn’t like that.”

 

Aiyana’s lips thinned, and she flushed angrily. “He needs someone who’s more than just a pity-fuck to him. It was fine for the first couple of years, I suppose, but he’s moved beyond that now. He’s _moved on_. And you hanging around isn’t helping things.”

 

Harry sighed. He eyed Chakotay, standing only a few feet away but deep in conversation with three admirals. “Look, I need to get back to it. Nice talking to you, Aiyana. We should do this more often.”

 

He went back over to Chakotay, who was now talking to some fellow colleagues (Harry assumed, anyway, given that they were discussing some facet of cultural anthropology). Chakotay put an arm around his waist, his hand coming to rest on Harry’s hip, and continued to talk. Harry let the conversation wash over him, content to have Chakotay so near.

 

A bright light at the corner of his periphery caught his attention, but he knew better than to turn toward it. He angled his body slightly away from its source. Chakotay felt him shift and immediately tensed. Without breaking his line of thought, he subtly maneuvered them so that their backs were to the reporter and the holo-imager that was filming them.

 

“Bunch of vultures,” one of Chakotay’s colleagues muttered. He made a rude gesture over Harry’s shoulder, presumably at the reporter now standing behind him. Chakotay’s other colleagues drew in closer, and they formed a tight circle.

 

“You get used to it,” Chakotay said wearily, but he gave them a grateful smile.  

 

They were finally able to get away in the mid-evening. In the shuttle on the way home, Chakotay said, “You and Aiyana were having a nice conversation there.”

 

“Conversation, yes. Nice? Not so much,” Harry said. Chakotay shot him a look.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said. “She’s just concerned. About you or about me, I’m not so sure.”

 

“Well, she’s going through a rough time. Her husband left.”

 

“Sorry to hear that,” Harry said blandly.

 

Back at the apartment, he helped Chakotay undo the fastenings on his dress uniform. He wore his fifty-six years well, but he’d developed arthritis in his fingers that he hadn’t yet had checked out. It would be a relatively simple cure once it was diagnosed, but Chakotay was notoriously bad about seeking medical attention when needed.

 

“Listen,” Harry said as he started to remove his own uniform. “We need to talk.”

 

“Oh?” Chakotay sounded wary. He pulled on a pair of loose-fitting cotton pants, then shed his uniform top so he could put on a black t-shirt.

 

“I’ve been doing some research these past few months.” Harry finished changing into more comfortable clothing, then went back out into the main room. Chakotay followed him. “Computer, bring up all files related to the Takara project.”

 

The computer screen flickered to life as Harry sat down at the desk. Chakotay watched the screen over his shoulder.

 

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding to the image displayed there.

 

“That,” Harry said with a sigh, “is a Borg temporal transmitter.”

 

“A what?”

 

“Do you remember that encrypted message I got a few weeks ago? Well, I did eventually crack that encryption - and no, I wasn’t sent an illicit message by a former classmate. I lied, because I needed time to figure out what to do with what I had been sent.” Harry tapped the image with his finger. “A contact of mine sent me this. It was apparently salvaged from a Borg cube. It’s a device that the Borg apparently can use to send messages through time. Starfleet seems to think it’s a protoype, but a promising one. It probably was functional at one time. With a few repairs, I think it could be again.”

 

Chakotay crossed his arms. “Well, that certainly is interesting. But I don’t really understand why someone would go through the pains of sending that information to you. Or the risk. It was classified, wasn’t it?”

 

“It was,” Harry said, nodding. “And I think they sent it to me… because they thought I might have use for it.”

 

Chakotay’s expression shuttered. He paced away to one of the windows.

 

“I really hope you’re not about to suggest what I think you are,” he said finally.

 

“The technology, as far as I can tell, can only communicate with other Borg components, not with people or regular computers,” Harry said. “Luckily enough for us, we have - had - one of those on our ship.”

 

“You want to change the timeline.” Chakotay’s voice was soft, but it carried across the room like a thunderclap. “You want to rewrite history. And you want to use that Borg transmitter to do it.”

 

“I want the chance to correct a wrong,” Harry said. He got to his feet.

 

“What you want to do is - hell, it’s paramount to _treason_ , Harry!” Chakotay rounded on him.

 

“I don’t care, Chakotay!” Harry exclaimed. “For ten _years_ I have tried to do right by _Voyager_. I stayed in Starfleet as long as I could. I tried to get the admirals to continue the search, and when they refused, I took it on myself. I owe that ship _everything_. The least I can do is - is try to bring them _back_. I have that chance now. I need to take it.”

 

“Do you have any idea what you’re suggesting? The Temporal Prime Directive isn’t a guideline, Harry, it’s the law! And for good reason. You have no idea how something like this could affect the timeline. You could cost billions of lives just to save one hundred and fifty!”

 

“This timeline never should have happened!” Harry burst out. “It’s all _wrong_ , and I need to fix it!”

 

Chakotay looked as though Harry had landed a blow to his gut.

 

“Wrong,” he repeated quietly. “This is wrong to you? Our life together, the past ten years… you loathe it so much you’d rather make sure it never happened in the first place? You think it needs _fixing_?”

 

“Don’t twist my words,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “What we have, it’s - it’s wonderful, it is, but it’s _not the life we are supposed to be leading_. You have to understand that, you _have_ to. You’re the only other person in this quadrant who can even come close.”

 

Chakotay turned to face him, his arms crossed over his chest. “Right, so what’s your big plan? Get your hands on the Borg temporal transmitter, send a message to Seven, and - what?”

 

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Harry said, pushing a hand through his hair. “We’d have to actually go retrieve Seven’s body in order to make this work. We need her cybernetic implants. We need to find out _precisely_ when she died, so that I know when to transmit the information to.”

 

“What information?”

 

Harry took a deep breath. “Remember those calculations I’ve been working on? I wanted to find out where exactly I went wrong. Turns out, that could actually be useful. If I figure out where I went wrong in those calculations, maybe I can figure out where to go _right_. And if I can transmit the correct calculations to Seven’s implants…”

 

“She might enter them, thus keeping _Voyager_ in the slipstream and delivering them safely home. With us.”

 

“See, it doesn’t have to be like you’re thinking,” Harry said. “Just because we alter the timeline to bring them home doesn’t mean that this - us - won’t happen. It’s just, this time around, we’d still have everyone in our lives.”

 

Chakotay snorted. “And how do you propose we get out to the Takara system?”

 

“Well, you’re the one who works in the building where the _Delta Flyer_ is housed.”

 

Chakotay walked away from him and sat down heavily on one of the sofas. He put his face in his hands, and silence reigned for several long seconds.

 

“So let me get this straight,” he said at last, lifting his head from his hands to look at Harry. “You want us to steal the _Delta Flyer_ , take it to the Takara system, break through the ice and get to _Voyager_ so we can retrieve Seven’s body, and then use her cybernetic implants to time when to send a message to her past self moments before her death?”

 

“For the most part, yeah,” Harry said. “But there’s one other aspect to this plan.”

 

Chakotay looked as though he was going to be ill. “And what’s that?”

 

“Well, I don’t know a thing about medicine, and neither do you. But there’s one person on _Voyager_ who was familiar with Seven’s systems.”

 

“You want to also retrieve the Doctor’s program,” Chakotay said. “Hell, Harry.”

 

He seemed incapable of saying more than that. Harry sat next to him on the sofa. Chakotay didn’t move away from him, but he didn’t look at him, either.

 

“I never would have considered something like this if I didn’t know about the transmitter,” he said quietly. “I never went looking for this. I wouldn’t have. But - I know about it now, and I can’t ignore that. I can’t get past this if I know that I didn’t try _everything_ in my power to save them.”

 

Chakotay stood abruptly.

 

“I can’t talk about this right now,” he said. “I need -”

 

He stopped, shook his head, and went to grab his communicator. He then left the apartment without another word.

 

\----

 

Chakotay didn’t appear again for three days.

 

During that time, Harry worked on his calculations some more. Whenever he hit a dead end with those - which was more often than he liked to admit - he tried to figure out just how he was going to get to the Takara system undetected. The _Flyer_ was a good ship. Even though she had been built over ten years ago, she was still as advanced as anything in the fleet. Starfleet’s engineers were good, but Tom was better. Still, there was no way they were getting her off Earth undetected. So how would they manage to get all the way to the Takara system without being stopped?

 

He figured that their best bet was to mask the ship’s warp signature, make her look like another vessel entirely. What they could really use was cloaking technology, but the _Defiant II_ was the only ship in the fleet with that kind of capability, and Harry figured they were pushing their luck as it was. It was one thing to make off with one Starfleet vessel, but two? That wasn’t going to be possible. Even he knew when something sounded far-fetched.

 

Masking the warp signature wasn’t going to be a perfect plan. After all, at any one time there were dozens of ships in orbit of Earth. All any of them needed to do was get a visual lock on them, and they would know that it was in fact the _Delta Flyer_ out there.

 

One problem at a time, Harry told himself firmly. Figure out how to mask the warp signature first. Make the _Flyer_ look like an innocuous freighter or mining vessel. If that couldn’t be done, then there was no point in worrying about how to evade Starfleet ships. 

 

He was in the kitchen of the empty apartment on the third morning after Chakotay’s disappearance when he heard a keycode being entered into the pad outside, and the doors slid aside. Chakotay came in, and they regarded one another silently for a moment before Chakotay disappeared into the bedroom. A moment later, Harry heard the shower start up.

 

He’d been wearing fresh clothes, so Harry reasoned that he’d gone to stay with his sister – or, hopefully, his cousin in Arizona. For a moment, the thought crossed his mind that Chakotay might actually have gone to stay with _Tessa_ , and that thought left an unpleasant weight in his stomach.

 

Chakotay came out into the main room fifteen minutes later. Harry had fixed two cups of coffee, and he silently handed one to Chakotay before cradling the other in his hands. Chakotay went to sit on the sofa; Harry remained standing.

 

“Where did you go?” Harry asked finally.

 

“Aiyana’s,” Chakotay said.

 

“What did you tell her?”

 

Chakotay gave him a withering look. “Just that we’d had a fight. I’m not stupid, Harry.”

 

Harry snorted. “Great. Give her another reason to hate me.”

 

“Spirits, Harry, what do you want from me?” Chakotay burst out. “I am _trying_ to understand, I really am!”

 

“What is there to understand?” Harry snapped at him. “We can save over one hundred lives, but you don’t want to because you don’t want to throw away this comfortable life of yours!”

 

“Look at it this way, Harry,” Chakotay said, suddenly weary. “We could save one hundred lives at the cost of well over twelve billion. I wasn’t willing to make that sacrifice.”

 

“Wasn’t?” Harry echoed.

 

Chakotay nodded slowly. He looked resigned. “I had some time to think. I know you’re going to do this anyway, with or without my help. I also know it’s within my power to stop you. I could arrest you right now, have the _Delta Flyer_ moved to a secure location, warn Starfleet that you know about the temporal transmitter… but I’m not going to do that.”

 

“Why not?” Harry asked faintly.

 

“Because this would make you happy,” Chakotay said softly. “And I haven’t seen that from you in a very long time. Your heart and soul is on that ship. I don’t think you ever really left it. And I go where you go.”

 

Harry came over to the sofa and sat down next to him.

 

“You know what this means,” he said.

 

Chakotay nodded. “Besides the obvious? Yeah. My career is shot, for one. Or it will be once this gets out. Hell, even discussing a plan like this is enough to land us in prison for a while. If we get caught before we can finish carrying it out, then we’ll be locked up for the rest of our lives. That is, if we don’t get killed in the process.”

 

He half-turned to look at Harry. “But you’ve been torturing yourself over this for ten years now. It will haunt you for the rest of your life. I’d be a poor excuse for a human if I didn’t try to alleviate any of that suffering. How can I claim to love you and then hurt you in the same breath?”

 

Harry slid an arm around his shoulders and pressed their foreheads together.

 

“I was wondering how I was going to manage this without you,” he said quietly. “There’s no one else in the universe who understands me like you do.”

 

Chakotay pulled back and gave him a sad smile. “Well. That’s what we’re trying to change, isn’t it?”

 

\----

 

It was Chakotay’s idea to bring Tessa in on their plan. Harry was adamantly against it. Mostly, he reasoned, because it was too much of a risk letting someone else know. They were only as safe as they made themselves, and if Tessa slipped up, it was all over. But partly, he knew, it was because of that sickening slide of jealousy into the pit of his stomach; it was because he knew there were things that Chakotay confided in Tessa that he never told Harry. He didn’t think the two of them were sleeping together - Chakotay didn’t seem like the type to sneak around - but even that fleeting thought was a sharp, unpleasant reminder that he had no right to dictate what it was Chakotay could or couldn’t do with Tessa. After all, he was the one who refused to define things, even six years down the line. It was he who kept Chakotay at arm’s length. If Chakotay looked elsewhere for what Harry couldn’t give - well, that was no one’s fault but his own.

 

It wasn’t that he disliked Tessa. Even he could be objective enough to admit that he was used to having Chakotay to himself, and it was odd - disconcerting - to see him bestow attention on another. Grudgingly, though, Harry had to admit that Tessa was a useful addition to their cause.

 

“How exactly do you plan to get the message to Seven?” she asked them one morning in Chakotay’s apartment over eggs and coffee. Golden sunlight streamed through the windows, soaking through Harry’s shirt and warming him to the bones.

 

He lifted weary eyes from his mug and caught Chakotay’s across the way. He was dizzy with exhaustion, and the pleasant warmth of the sunlight wasn’t helping things. They’d been at this since 2300 last night, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed with Chakotay and sleep for a week.

 

“We’re going to use a Borg temporal transmitter to send a message to Seven,” he said wearily. “She’ll receive the correct calculations and enter them into the computer. _Voila,_ the phase variance improves instead of getting worse, and _Voyager_ makes it home through the slipstream. The end.”

 

Chakotay’s ankle rubbed against his under the table, his way of saying _Easy, Harry_.

 

“That’s not what I mean,” Tessa said as she helped herself to some more eggs. Somehow, she managed to look awake and alert, as though she hadn’t been up for almost twenty-four hours. “Technically, yes, the temporal transmitter will get a message to Seven. But how are you going to ensure that it arrives at the right moment? That it goes to her during the slipstream flight, and not five minutes before? Or five hours? Or five years?”

 

“I take it you have an idea,” Chakotay said. Harry drained his coffee and stared morosely into the bottom of his mug. His heart was thudding painfully against the inside of his ribcage - had been doing that for a few hours now, since his third cup of coffee - and his head was still leaden with exhaustion. It was a horrendous feeling.

 

“I think so.” Tessa took a bite of eggs, frowning thoughtfully. She swallowed, and then said, “I’ve been studying the anatomy of human Borg, what little we know about them. Seven should have two things that are going to prove useful in this venture: an interplexing beacon and a chronometric node.”

 

“What do we need those for?” Harry asked.

 

“We need to determine her precise time and location of death, because that will tell us when and where to send the calculations,” Tessa said. “The interplexing beacon records translink frequencies, so it will tell us precisely where _Voyager_ was when it was destroyed. Thus, we will know where Seven was when she died so we know where to transmit the calculation. The chronometric node will tell us when Seven’s Borg components disengaged from her organic systems - her time of death.”

 

“We will have to send the new calculations just prior to her time of death to ensure they get them on time,” Harry said, catching on. “But not too soon, because otherwise _Voyager_ won’t know what they mean and might just ignore them.”

 

Tessa pointed her fork at him. “Precisely.”

 

Silence fell. Tessa continued to eat. Chakotay got up to replicate two more mugs of coffee - or at least that’s what Harry thought he was plugging into the replicator. But when Chakotay set the mug in front of him, he found that it was tea. Uncaffeinated tea, he knew without tasting it.

 

“Where was Seven?” Harry asked Chakotay finally. “Astrometrics?”

 

Chakotay shook his head. “The bridge.”

 

“If the lower decks hit the ice first, then her body’s probably still there. Hopefully intact,” Harry said.

 

“That’s only if they died immediately,” Chakotay pointed out.

 

“Hitting the ice at the speed they did, it’s a wonder the ship’s even intact,” Tessa said. “Most of the crew would have died upon impact, if not all. No one lived long enough to even send a distress signal out.”

 

Harry took a long swallow of tea.

 

“So Seven’s on the bridge,” he said after a moment. “And the best place to access the Doctor’s program would be Sickbay. How long would an extraction like that take?”

 

Tessa lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Depends on the amount of damage to the ship.”

 

“Let’s assume moderate damage,” Chakotay said. “Decks compacted, but overall the ship’s integrity has held.”

 

“If we assume absolute ideal conditions…” Tessa trailed off and stared into the middle distance, thinking. “Let’s say we send two people down to the planet, leave one person in the _Flyer_ to monitor things. They have to drill through five meters of ice to get to _Voyager_ , then drill a hole into the hull. That alone will take eight hours. Then they split up - one goes for the bridge and one goes for Sickbay. Assuming a minimal number of obstacles, they could reach their targets within two hours.”

 

“So ten hours after coming into orbit around the planet, we’d have Seven and the Doctor aboard,” Harry said.

 

“Allow some time for the Doctor to extract the necessary components from Seven,” Chakotay said. “Say… two hours?”

 

“So within twelve hours, at the minimum, we could be implementing our plan,” Harry said. He sat back in his seat and looked at Tessa. “And how long can we use the planet as a natural barrier, concealing us from other vessels?”

 

Tessa’s mouth tightened. “At the most, nine hours.”

 

Harry drained his tea, then pushed himself to his feet.

 

“We’ll work on it,” he said shortly. “It’s not like we can do anything until the calculations are complete, anyway. No use in worrying about the little details now when the one thing this plan hinges on isn’t finished yet.”

 

He told himself not to be irritated that Chakotay remained inside with Tessa when he retreated to the balcony. She was their guest here, he reasoned. Hell, it had been his own idea to invite her over last night to hash out the sketchy idea of their plan. Not to mention the fact that she was Chakotay’s teaching assistant. He probably felt obligated -

 

The door slid aside, and Harry looked over his shoulder. Chakotay stepped out onto the balcony, hunching his shoulders reflexively against the chilled air.

 

“Thought you hated the cold,” Chakotay said. He folded his arms across his chest.

 

Harry snorted. “This is nothing compared to what it’s going to be like on that planet.”

 

Chakotay wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist from behind. “How long do you think we are from implementation?”

 

“Who the hell knows, Chakotay?” Harry sighed. But it was a legitimate question. “A couple of years, at the very least. Maybe up to five.”

 

“So soon,” Chakotay said quietly.

 

“That’s a matter of perspective.”

 

“Can I do anything?”

 

Harry twisted around in his arms until they were chest-to-chest. “No. Just keep going to work like everything’s normal. Tessa, too. We can’t afford to alert anyone this soon.”

 

Chakotay pressed his lips to Harry’s forehead. “I love you.”

 

He’d been saying that a lot lately, almost as though he wanted to make sure Harry believed him. Harry couldn’t exactly blame him. He knew how it looked, knew how he sounded. As though the past ten years had been so terrible that he was willing to kill billions of people just to fix them. And that was exactly what he was proposing - murder. Who knew how much their return had affected the course of history? Countless beings might not even exist in the new timeline, once they created it. And even of the ones who lived, the lives they lived now would never come into being. Wasn’t that akin to killing them?

 

When Harry stepped back and looked at the past decade objectively - and he could do that once in a while, believe it or not - he knew that, despite all the pain, it still contained some of the best years of his life. Especially the time he’d spent here, in this apartment with Chakotay. The time he’d spent in the mountains, too, and the desert, training the next generation of Starfleet cadets. The morning coffees he’d have down by the bay; the evening strolls through San Francisco. The clear, starry nights. Mid-afternoons spent in bed, head resting over Chakotay’s heartbeat, no obligations for either of them and an entire day to themselves.

 

But he couldn’t accept that happiness, not when it came at the cost of the lives of his closest friends. Not when he had killed them in order to achieve it.


	9. 2386

Harry often found that he did his best thinking when going through the motions of a mindless task. Showering and running were the best for that, though of course the latter was now out of the question. Sometimes he’d go for a walk down by the bay if he needed to clear his thoughts and let the calculations take over, but this afternoon’s rainstorm made that impossible today.

 

There was usually something to be done around the apartment, however. The flower boxes on the balcony needed replanting, and he decided that would be today’s project. Chakotay had a knack for making things grow and an infuriating inability to do anything about it. So they were left with flowers and plants that were outgrowing their beds, which were soon going to crack under the pressure of the tangle of roots.

 

The overhang shielded Harry from the worst of the rain. He carefully transferred all the plants on the balcony into newer, larger pots, which he would take out to his parents’ at the end of the week. The plants he’d bought to replace them were barely more than sprouts, and they would last a while before he had to repeat this process all over again.

 

It was a good couple of hours of monotonous work. Harry found himself thinking more about the minutiae of their lives than about the calculations that perpetually hung over his head. He would need to get some groceries while he was out today or tomorrow, and he should probably start thinking about what to make for dinner tonight, and he owed his mother a call…

 

He almost didn’t hear the computer chiming, as wrapped up as he was in his thoughts. When it finally registered, he swiped his hands on his pants and went inside to answer the call.

 

“Bad time?” Chakotay asked when the viewscreen flickered to life and he caught sight of Harry. Mirth danced in his eyes.

  
“This is all your fault, you know,” Harry said. “If you’d take care of your plants once in a while…”

 

“That’s why I keep you around, isn’t it?”

 

“Very funny.”

 

Chakotay laughed. “Actually, I was calling to see if you were free this afternoon. Join me for lunch?”

 

“Hell, yes,” Harry said. He’d have taken Chakotay up on just about anything that saved from working on the plant boxes. “When?”

 

“Give me a couple of hours?”

 

“I’ll meet you at your office around 1300.”

 

Harry finished up what he was doing, cleaned the mess he’d made both inside the apartment and out on the balcony, and took a shower. By the time he was finished and changed, the rain had cleared. He decided to chance the walk to Starfleet Academy.

 

With the semester in full swing, it was busier on campus that he was used to seeing on his other - admittedly infrequent - visits. Making his way through the crowds of cadets streaming in every direction slowed him down, but he still made good time.

 

There were a handful of students in the lounge area outside Chakotay’s office, and they all gave Harry a cursory glance before going back to their schoolwork. Chakotay’s door was open. Harry paused in the doorway and rapped on the frame.

 

“Hey.” Chakotay looked up from his work and gave a tired but genuine smile. “You’re early.”

 

“Sorry,” Harry said, hesitating in the doorway. “Do you want me to -”

 

“No, no.” Chakotay got up from his desk and waved Harry into a chair. “Just give me a moment. I need to have a word with my secretary.”

 

He left the office, kissing Harry on the cheek as he went. Grinning stupidly to himself, Harry sat in one of the chairs in front of Chakotay’s desk and propped one leg - his good one - on the edge of the desk. Chakotay apparently left the neat freak in him behind when he left the apartment. The office was a textbook case of organized chaos - books and PADDs stacked in precarious piles that were in danger of tipping over, a desk that was strewn with paperwork, little notes stuck on every surface imaginable. He picked up a PADD at random and flipped through the first few screens. An anthropology text, one that sailed right over his head. This wasn’t Chakotay’s main discipline anymore, but it was still his passion. Harry was used to finding similar texts in their apartment.

 

He got up from his seat and went to sit in Chakotay’s chair, which was far more comfortable. He propped both feet on the desk and surveyed the office from this angle. His gaze caught upon a small frame tucked behind a towering pile of PADDs on the desk, and he tugged it out to look at it.

 

It was a picture of him. He was sitting in Chakotay’s favorite chair, legs tucked underneath him, reading a book that was propped in his lap. Harry frowned at the image. It was at least a couple of years old - his hair was shorter and without the streaks of gray that were just starting to appear. But he couldn’t recall it being taken.

 

Sneaky bastard.

 

Voices were approaching the office. Harry put the picture back where he found it and sat back in his seat just as Chakotay came back in.

 

“Ready?”

 

They took one of the campus shuttles to nearby Miller’s Pub for time’s sake. It was easily within walking distance, but Chakotay only had the hour for lunch. Though they’d attended the Academy nearly two decades apart, they had discovered that this was a pub they had both frequented as cadets. It was virtually unchanged from the day Harry had first crossed its threshold, and nostalgia was always heavy in the air when they came here. Their conversations were often punctuated by _Do you remember watching Parrises Squares matches at the bar_ and _Old Maurice, he knew everyone’s names, even if he hadn’t seen you for a whole year._

 

But Chakotay cut the idle reminiscing short as soon as their food came by saying, “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

 

“And here I thought you just wanted to have lunch with your - with me,” Harry said. He covered his near-slip with a swallow of wine. Chakotay, still on the clock, stuck with water.

 

“I do. But this is kind of a time-sensitive matter.”

 

They started to eat. Harry paused between bites to ask, “Something to do with work?”

 

“Yeah,” Chakotay said. “I just found out about this a few hours ago, and I need to have an answer to them by this evening.”

 

“An answer about what?” Harry asked.

 

A shadow fell over Chakotay’s features. “They want to transfer me.”

 

“Transfer you?” Harry asked. “ _Where_?”

 

Chakotay’s expression darkened further. He paused, setting his utensils on the table. “Cienia.”

 

Harry had to think for a moment to place the name of the planet. “That’s -”

 

“In the middle of nowhere. I know.”

 

“Three weeks from here on our fastest shuttles. Hell, that’s almost as far from here as _Bajor_.” Harry stared at him. “Why the hell would they -”

 

He broke off, horror sinking in. Had someone gotten wind of their plan?

 

“Starfleet’s opening a branch of the Academy in that sector, hoping to reach more potential cadets who live out on the frontier and wouldn’t come to us otherwise,” Chakotay said. “I don’t think it’s because I’ve been asking too many questions. I’ve kept myself pretty discreet around here. I think it’s just bad luck and bad timing.”

 

He looked morose.

 

“What happens if you turn it down?” Harry asked.

 

“I lose my position here at the Academy.”

 

“All because you don’t want to teach out in the middle of goddamn nowhere?” Harry fumed.

 

“They’re desperate for faculty out there. Needless to say, not too many people are keen on going,” Chakotay said.

 

Harry sat back in his seat and passed a hand over his mouth. “Well, we can’t lose you as our connection at the Academy. Not as long as we can help it, at least.”

 

“I know.” Chakotay rubbed his temple. He looked as though he had a headache coming on. Harry could tell by the tightness around his eyes and mouth. “But I can’t say it isn’t tempting to turn it down. Hell, Harry, I don’t want to live on the other side of the quadrant from you indefinitely.”

 

“Why wouldn’t I be with you?” Harry asked, wondering if he had missed something. Another of Starfleet’s caveats, perhaps - no family allowed?

 

Chakotay stared at him. “I thought you wouldn’t want to come, not when the _Flyer_ and the Borg temporal transmitter are here on Earth.”

 

“It’s not like they’re going anywhere,” Harry said, staring at Chakotay in disbelief. “Did you really think I’d stay behind if you moved elsewhere? Are you _serious_?”

 

Chakotay didn’t respond. The way his eyes darted away and the uncomfortable silence that stretched between them was answer enough. _Jesus_. Hot shame flooded Harry, and he took a long swallow of wine.

 

“Harry, you wouldn’t want to live out there,” Chakotay said after a moment, but there was a cautious hope in his tone. “It’s isolated, it’s days away from anything remotely close to civilization…”

 

“We spent four years in the Delta Quadrant. That’s about as isolated as it gets,” Harry said. “Look, I go where you go, okay? No matter what. This isn’t even remotely up for debate. I would _never_ -”

 

He broke off. His tone had been rising in anger, and he swiftly clamped down on it. It was misguided anger, anger that he directed inward at his own _stupidity_ but which came out at Chakotay instead. He reached across the table and gripped Chakotay’s hand.

 

“You come first,” he said. “I know it doesn’t feel like it because of what I’m trying to do, but my feelings for you have no bearing on that, okay? I _have_ to try to right this wrong or I’ll never be able to live with myself, but it has _nothing_ to do with this. With us. This is the only thing about the past ten years that’s felt _right._ I don’t want to live without you any more than you want to leave me behind.”

 

The waiter came over to clear their plates. Chakotay squeezed Harry’s hand and then released it. When the man had gone again, he said, “They’ll want us out there at the end of the month.”

 

Harry did the mental calculation. “Gives us - what, a week to pack?”

 

Chakotay nodded. “I’ll be keeping the apartment again, so we can leave the furniture behind and whatever else we might not immediately need. I don’t know how long Starfleet is going to want me out there, but I don’t intend to live there forever. And that way we’ll always have a place on Earth to stay when we visit.”

 

“I assume Tessa’s staying behind?”

 

“Yes. She hasn’t been asked to go, and it’ll be nice to have someone on Earth if we need them to… look into something for us,” Chakotay said. “I’ll go with you to dinner at your parents’ this week.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Harry said, thinking about how his father was going to have Chakotay’s head for this.

 

“I want to,” Chakotay said firmly. “I owe it to them, don’t you think? I’m taking their only child away. Again. They should hear it from me.”

 

They parted just outside the cafe. Chakotay went back to the office while Harry decided to walk back to the apartment. It was a gorgeous day, and the half-hour walk would be good for his leg. He made a stop along the way to pick something up, and was home by three.

 

He surveyed their living room, then poked around in the kitchen and went into the bedroom. It wasn’t a cluttered home. They’d have to take the bed with them, of course. Harry wasn’t about to give up their bed. Chakotay’s favorite chair, too. The antique clock his mother had gifted to them three years ago. Their clothes, their books, their toiletries, and that was it. The living room furniture and all the kitchen amenities could stay behind. The housing Starfleet provided for its faculty would meet all their basic needs. What they had to take with them would fit a two-person shuttle with room to spare.

 

Harry paused, considering. Would he miss it here? Would he long for this home, for Earth? Would it pain him, as it did when they were stranded in the Delta?

 

No. He knew that he wouldn’t. He knew instead that if he was to stay behind while Chakotay left, he would hardly be able to bear it. He knew that he couldn’t live apart from Chakotay, who was now such a natural part of his life that he couldn’t imagine a day without him. It would be intolerable, living in this city - on this planet - alone. But with Chakotay, Harry could bear just about anything. He knew, right then, that his decision was the right one. He would miss his parents, but that he could stand. He hoped they would come to understand why he was doing this.

 

Harry retrieved the package he had picked up on the way home, attached a small note to it, and left it on the sink in the bathroom for Chakotay to find.

 

He spent the rest of the afternoon out on the balcony, reading a book as the sky turned from blue to fiery red to pink. By the time Chakotay came home, daylight was too faint to read by, but the evening was balmy. Harry remained out on the balcony with his book facedown on his lap, enjoying the final vestiges of the season. He listened for the shower, heard it go on and then shut off ten minutes later.

 

Chakotay eventually sought him out. Harry looked up as the balcony door slid open, aware only then that his heart was racing. He and Chakotay stared at one another for a moment. Then Chakotay tossed something at him, and it landed in his lap.

 

“Are you serious?” he asked.

 

Harry fingered the small package, slid a finger along the note he had written and attached to it.

 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I am.”

 

“You’ve thought about this?”

 

Harry got up from his chair and crossed the balcony to him.

 

“Have you ever known me to do a thing without thinking it through?” he asked. He opened the box. “Will it help if I ask?”

 

“It might,” Chakotay said, sounding a little dazed.

 

“Right. Chakotay, will you marry me?”

 

Silence for a full minute.

 

“Why?” Chakotay asked finally.

 

“Because I want to marry you.”

 

“Why now?”

 

“Seven years isn’t long enough?”

 

“Seven years,” Chakotay repeated faintly. He reached out a hand and traced one of the two rings inside the box.

 

“Have you never thought about it?”

 

“Of course,” Chakotay said quietly. “But it was always just - always just a passing fantasy. Something I only thought would happen in an ideal world. If _Voyager_ had made it home. If you’d ever been able to see beyond…”

 

He trailed off.

 

“I always saw it. I always saw _you_ ,” Harry said. “I was just shit at showing it, I really was. I took all this for granted. But through all those missions I went on, the only thing I wanted - sometimes even more than finding _Voyager_ \- was to be here, at home, with you. Even though our home is changing now, I just want to be with _you_.”

 

“And this isn’t because of… our little plan?”

 

It was, but not in the way that he was thinking. Harry had never realized until now how abysmally he’d been treating Chakotay all these years and especially now, when he was actively working to erase their relationship from history. He needed Chakotay to _see_ that they were two separate issues. _Voyager_ being destroyed because of him; him finding happiness and living a life with Chakotay - they were not compatible. He couldn’t have both. He _wanted_ to live out the rest of his years with Chakotay, wanted to put _Voyager_ behind him. And if he could, then this is the kind of life he would lead. _This_ is what he wanted.

 

So Harry said, “No,” and hoped Chakotay would understand how much he _wanted_ it to be true.

 

Chakotay finally took the box from Harry’s hands. Their fingers brushed; Chakotay’s were trembling. He tilted the box first one way and then another, watching as the rings caught the light from inside the apartment.

 

“What’s the point,” he asked finally, “if it’s all going to be erased in a few years anyway?”

 

“What if it’s not?” Harry countered. He closed his hands around Chakotay’s. “There are so many different ways this could all go down. It’s more likely that we’ll go on the run or end up in prison when this is all said and done. Whatever happens… I want to be yours until the end of it.”

 

Chakotay shut his eyes, his expression pained. Then, he nodded.

 

Now it was Harry’s turn to be uncertain. “Are you sure?”

 

“That’s a stupid question.” Chakotay snapped the box shut, fisted one hand into the front of Harry’s shirt, and pulled him in for a breathless kiss.

 

\-----

 

Cienia was a lush, golden world.

 

Chakotay hated it. He’d always been staunchly against terraforming, and living on a world that was habitable only because of technological intervention grated on his nerves.

 

“It’s arrogant and irresponsible, thinking that you can control nature,” he said. “That it’s something to be altered and _fixed._ ”

 

Harry tried to share Chakotay’s indignation, he really did, but he was as charmed by Cienia as most of its residents. He’d never experienced days so luminous and brilliant; nights that were so stunningly clear he felt as though he could see all the way to the Rim. Sometimes, when he stood outside and craned his neck, he could imagine that he had fallen into a bowl of stars.

 

There were a little over one hundred cadets enrolled in the inaugural class at Cienia’s branch of Starfleet Academy. They were all children of the borderlands, all from worlds that had been disputed before and after the Dominion War. They carried those traumas with them, and Harry understood then why Starfleet had been so hell-bent on getting Chakotay to sign on to this posting. He understood better than most the conditions these cadets would have grown up under, as well as all that they had suffered.

 

Chakotay filled multiple roles on Cienia. He taught three sections of Advanced Tactics, two of Cultural Anthropology, and a piloting course. He also oversaw two different departments. As a result, Harry was left to his own devices for as many as eighteen hours a day sometimes. There was very little for him to do on Cienia, all things considered. There was the Starfleet Academy campus, a small residential area surrounding it, a handful of bars, and that was about it.

 

Their home was small, constructed from a disassembled shuttle, one of the many that had ferried supplies to this distant colony once the terraforming project was complete. But it was an honest-to-God _house_ , and Harry, who had only ever lived in apartments or in close quarters on a ship during his adult life, was enthralled with it. Their few belongings fit snugly into the home - Chakotay called it _crowded_ , Harry thought it was _cozy_ \- and when it came down to it, there really wasn’t room for either of them to do much besides prepare meals there and sleep.

 

Harry took to spending the daylight hours outdoors. The climate was mild on Cienia, the weather never worse than the occasional rainstorm. Harry would gather up all his books and PADDs and find a table somewhere on the campus grounds where he could work on his calculations. On the rare days he spent inside, he would choose one of the cafes, or a booth in one of the bars because they were always deserted during the daytime.

 

He was making progress on the calculations, but it was going to take time. He needed to recognize that, and for the most part he did. But there were days when it was almost too much to bear; when he realized that he’d been at this for eleven years already, in one way or another, and he was just so fucking _tired_ of it all.

 

 

There was a small rec building on the campus, large enough for a pool, a Parrises Squares court, and a gym. Harry had discovered the pool during their third week on the planet, and on a whim one night had decided to try it out. The campus was a quiet one, and most cadets were back in their lodgings by nine at night. If Harry went anywhere after ten, he was certain to find the place deserted.

 

Swimming was a godsend. His physical therapist had been right in her predictions - his leg was never going to be quite the same. Harry noticed it less here than he had in damp San Francisco. Sure, the limp was still present, but the pain was less and his leg didn’t cramp up as often. He was sleeping through the night more as a result. But he still had bad days with the leg, and he wasn’t exercising the way that he used to. Swimming relieved the pressure on his leg, allowed him to move it in ways he wasn’t able to anymore.

 

He was doing laps in the pool one night when he heard the doors slide open, and he stopped, treading water while he pushed the hair out of his eyes.

 

“The computer said you were in here,” Chakotay said. “Well. It said that someone with your access card had opened these doors half an hour ago. How’s the water?”

 

“Cold, actually, but you get used to it,” Harry said.

 

Chakotay snorted and walked across the room to the computer interface on the wall. “Sorry, but no.”

 

He adjusted the temperature of the water, then peeled off his uniform jacket.

 

“Are you going to - oh, okay. Yes, you are,” Harry said as Chakotay stripped down to nothing and dived gracefully into the water. When Chakotay surfaced, he said, “You do realize that this room is under surveillance.”

 

“Not at the moment, it isn’t,” Chakotay said. “I hacked into the cameras. It’s going to be playing a loop of an empty pool for the next hour or so.”

 

“Why?” Harry asked slowly, but as Chakotay swam toward him, he knew exactly why. “Chakotay, the doors -”

 

“Are sealed.” Chakotay pulled Harry toward him and locked his arms around Harry’s waist. Harry braced his hands on Chakotay’s shoulders and accepted the kiss with a laugh.

 

“You,” he whispered against Chakotay’s lips, “are _insane_.”

 

“No,” Chakotay murmured as he trailed kisses along Harry’s jaw. “I just haven’t seen you properly in more than a week and it’s driving me _mad_.”

 

He’d pushed them back toward shallower waters, so that he could stand. Harry wrapped his legs around Chakotay’s hips, something he couldn’t do any longer under normal circumstances, and ground experimentally against him. It got precisely the reaction he’d been hoping for. Chakotay groaned and moved his hands to Harry’s ass. He squeezed, then hooked his fingers into Harry’s swimming trunks and pulled them down. Harry kicked them away.

 

“Okay?” Chakotay murmured between kisses as Harry wrapped his legs around him once again. 

 

“Fantastic,” Harry said breathlessly. Chakotay held him close, their erections sliding together. “Just don’t stop -”

 

It was over faster than he would have liked, but that was just a testament to how long it’d been. When Harry came back to himself, he felt smooth stone against his back and realized they had drifted over to one of the sides of the pool. He released his hold on Chakotay’s hips and let his feet brush the bottom of the pool. Chakotay pressed him against the wall and kissed him through the aftershocks.

 

“We should have thought of this sooner,” Harry said when he got his breath back, and Chakotay laughed.

 

“Never had access to a pool this deserted before,” he pointed out. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.”

 

“Yeah?” Harry ran a hand down Chakotay’s taut stomach. “And what else have you thought about?”

 

Chakotay smirked. “You’ll find out.”

 

They hauled themselves out of the pool, dried off, and dressed.

 

“Coming home?” Harry asked.

 

“In a bit.” Chakotay shot him an apologetic look. “I saw you were here and didn’t know when we’d get an opportunity like this again, so I took advantage of it. I have some paperwork I need to finish up and lessons to prepare for tomorrow. I should be home by one. It’ll be like this for the rest of the week, if not for longer. I’m sorry -”

 

Harry cut him off with a kiss before he could finish apologizing.

 

“Go,” he said. “I’ll see you back at home.”

 

“It won’t be like this forever,” Chakotay said.

 

No, it wouldn’t. Someday, their time on Cienia would be a distant memory - or it will have never happened at all.


	10. 2386-2390

Starfleet kept extending Chakotay’s assignment on Cienia. His stint at the new Academy was supposed to have been only six months long. Three months were added onto that, and then another three, over and over until one day Harry realized they had been living there almost three years. With each passing month, Cienia felt less and less like a temporary assignment, and more like a home.

 

Harry used one of the labs at the Academy after-hours in order to run simulations with his new calculations. He had yet to hit upon the right set of phase corrections, but he was getting close. He was able to keep the simulated _Voyager_ in the slipstream for longer and longer each time. He had yet to get them back to the Alpha Quadrant in one piece, but progress meant that the solution _was_ out there. He was going to find it.

 

The second class of cadets on Cienia had been larger than the first by more than one hundred, and the third class was four hundred strong. The fourth class would be starting in three months, and numbers had swelled. Chakotay said they were predicting a class that was more than double the size of the third, bringing almost one thousand new cadets to the planet. Starfleet had sent ships full of supplies to meet the demand. New buildings and lodgings were being erected, replicators and computers were being brought in, restaurants were popping up, farms were being planted to sustain the planet’s new and growing population. What had once been little more than a settlement was quickly turning into a town, and soon after that would be a proper city.

 

“This is going to be an actual colony someday,” Harry mused one night to Chakotay as they sat on the roof of their home, looking out on the bright lights of the campus. “So much for being an isolated outpost.”

 

“It’s already larger than the planet I grew up on,” Chakotay said. “Dorvan had barely five hundred people left in the settlement when the Cardassians came. We’re almost twice that here, and that’s only including faculty, staff, and cadets. The scientists are another matter entirely.”

 

Terraforming was still a relatively new technology, and had only been successfully implemented on a handful of worlds. Scientists regularly flocked to Cienia to study her ecosystem.

 

Harry rested his head on Chakotay’s shoulder. “Could you stay here?”

 

He felt Chakotay shift in surprise. “I hadn’t really thought about it. I guess I always assumed we would return to San Francisco someday.”

 

“Do you want to?”

 

Chakotay was quiet for a moment. “I get the feeling that perhaps you don’t.”

 

Harry didn’t know how to put it into words, how to explain that being on a world so cut off from the rest of the Federation was such a _relief_.

 

“I like it here,” he said finally. “When we came back to Earth - there were just so many memories. Living in the same city as the Academy, I’d remember how wonderful that time of my life was, and then how horribly it all ended. And I’d think about all the people who should have come back to Earth with us, but didn’t make it. But being out here - this is a fresh start. This is _ours_.”

 

Chakotay put an arm around his shoulders. “My contract is up here at the end of the school year. I think they might actually let me go back to Earth this time. I’ve got enough people staffing my departments now that it wouldn’t be detrimental if I left.”

 

“What do you think we’ll do? Go back to Earth? Or are they sending you somewhere else?”

 

“It’s up to me now,” Chakotay said. He squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “And I think I’ll be renewing my contract here.”

 

\----

 

Aiyana and her children had only been out to visit Cienia once since Chakotay and Harry moved there. They came again in the middle of the autumn semester that year, a visit that naturally Chakotay cheerfully anticipated while Harry did not. The children were nice enough - Meira even called him Uncle Harry, though the two boys didn’t - but Aiyana still hadn’t fully accepted that Harry was a part of Chakotay’s life. She’d even missed their marriage ceremony, though Harry had to grudgingly admit that it was a rushed affair and it was perfectly logical to assume it was far too short notice for her to make it. Still, her absence had hurt Chakotay, and Harry didn’t take too kindly to that.

 

They’d added an addition onto their house the previous summer, gaining them two more rooms. They put the boys up in one of these rooms and Meira in the other, and Aiyana was given their bedroom. Chakotay and Harry camped out on the couch in the living room, much like they had done in the early days on Cienia when Harry’s parents came to visit them.

 

But Chakotay could only take so much time away from the Academy, so there were days when Harry was responsible for keeping the small family entertained. Vivek, twenty years old and with a strong interest in astrophysics, could talk with Harry about the subject for hours. Nikau had the attention span and moodiness of most teenagers - sometimes Harry could work on an engineering project with him, and other times Nikau spent entire afternoons locked up in the bedroom, sulking over some imagined wrong or another. Meira, sweet and quiet like Chakotay, loved reading the numerous books Harry and Chakotay had around the house. Aiyana would leave the house for hours at a time to walk around the burgeoning colony, just to be away from Harry.

 

Harry usually made his escape from the house in the evenings, when Chakotay came home from work and Aiyana returned to the house. Dinners were amicable enough, though there was a palpable chill between Aiyana and Harry that even the kids seemed to pick up on. He wanted Chakotay to feel free to talk to his sister without his presence, and it gave him time to clear his head and work on his project, so he usually went to one of the Academy’s labs.

 

He started up another round of simulations, this time using some different variables. Chakotay had gone over these calculations with him just the other night, so they were fairly new. Harry had been eager to test them, but he hadn’t been able to really get away before now.

 

The simulated _Voyager_ stayed in the slipstream five, seven, and then eight seconds longer than in previous attempts. This was something. It brought them nearly to the edge of the Alpha Quadrant. But, of course, Harry needed to hit upon the calculation that would not only bring them all the way back home, but which would also dissolve the slipstream harmlessly rather than throwing _Voyager_ from it violently.

 

He plugged the series of new calculations into the computer, then set it to run automatically and record the results. All told, it would take perhaps half an hour to go through all of them. Harry would then revise from there.

 

He sat back in his chair to wait, then became aware of a shadow in the doorway. He jumped, not having noticed the door even slide open, and said, “Who’s there?”

 

“Sorry,” a familiar voice said sheepishly.

 

“Vivek,” Harry said in surprise, recognizing the voice and the lanky frame. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Uncle said you come here a lot,” Vivek said.

 

“Does he know you’re here?”

 

Vivek shook his head. “They’re fighting.”

 

Harry sighed. He wasn’t surprised. It seemed all Aiyana wanted to do was pick fights with her brother. It was all she ever did with him. Her way of showing love, Chakotay maintained, and Harry supposed he knew her best.

 

“What are you working on?” Vivek asked, coming fully into the room.

 

“Nothing,” Harry said automatically. “Just running a simulation. It’ll keep on its own. You want a tour?”

 

He took Vivek through the rest of the lab, showing him the banks of computers that connected to the telescopes high in orbit around the planet, explaining how each department used the readings.

 

“They could use cadets like you at the Academy,” Harry said, folding his arms and leaning one hip against a console. “You ever thought about applying?”

 

Vivek shook his head. “Mom would kill me. She saw what it did to Uncle.”

 

“He’s a very happy man, Vivek,” Harry said. “Despite what your mom may think.”

 

“She’s scared she’s gonna lose him. Again,” Vivek said. “She wants him out of Starfleet. It’ll kill her if I go in, especially after Dad…”

 

He trailed off. Harry didn’t know what happened to Chakotay’s former brother-in-law, so he asked cautiously, “You see him a lot?”

 

Vivek shook his head, not meeting Harry’s eyes, and Harry’s heart broke a bit for him. “Not since the divorce. I don’t know why. Mom just says he’s as good as dead and we should stop thinking about him.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. And then he added, “If you ever want to come stay with us, we’ve got the room. Maybe Chakotay can talk to your mom about letting you apply –”

 

An incessant beeping started up in the other room, interrupting him. Harry squeezed Vivek’s shoulder and then went to investigate.

 

It was his simulation. Harry went over to the computer and glanced at the readings coming from it. He was struck dumb.

 

“Harry?” Vivek was at his side, sounding worried. “What is it?”

 

Harry’s jaw worked for several moments. He had no idea what to say. Finally, he managed, “It _worked_.”

 

\----

 

It took them nearly six months to verify that Harry’s new calculations were correct. Chakotay sent them to Tessa to have her run the simulation on her end, and then he and Harry ran it on theirs, over and over and over again until Harry dreamed about it in his sleep. He threw every variable imaginable at the simulation. What if _Voyager_ ’s hull contracted a millimeter? What if Tom’s finger slipped and the ship shifted a centimeter to starboard? What if the ambient temperature of the ship was warmer or colder than they were expecting - would that affect the flight at all?

 

No matter what he threw at the simulation, though, the result remained the same. _Voyager_ made it back to the heart of the Alpha Quadrant, and the slipstream dissolved harmlessly around her, depositing them all safely in Federation space.

 

“I think it worked, Harry,” Chakotay admitted finally one night late in the spring semester. Finals were coming up the next week. For once, Chakotay had an entire summer off. They’d been planning on a getaway to Risa.

 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “I think you’re right.”

 

“So what do we do now?”

 

Chakotay’s contract wasn’t up for another year. The only way he could break it at this point was if he resigned from Starfleet. And they were so close to the end at this point, so close to reaching their goal, that Harry couldn’t bear the thought of him doing that. They’d managed thirteen years without _Voyager_. They could manage a little longer yet.

 

“We keep running the simulations, just to be sure,” Harry decided finally, getting up from the table. “In the meantime - we’re supposed to be on vacation, aren’t we?”

 

Risa was gorgeous at any time of the year. Harry didn’t know if he could live on a planet that was stunning all of the time - he appreciated the occasional storm that blew up on Cienia, and rainy Saturday afternoons were his favorite.

 

But for a visit, Risa was paradise. They had a hotel room that looked out onto the water. Temperate nights and a lack of insect activity meant that there was no need for doors separating the balcony from the bedroom. The hotel and its rooms were designed for utmost privacy. The walls were noise-canceling and every balcony was walled off from the others, meaning the occupants of the rooms could appreciate the ocean view and still move about in their rooms without being seen by strangers.

 

Chakotay and Harry hardly left the room their first two days on the planet. In fact, they barely even left the bedroom. Meals were delivered right to their door, which was about the only time they got up. Chakotay fucked with an intensity Harry hadn’t experienced since the early days of their relationship. He did his best to relish this side of Chakotay, which had been dormant for so long. The brutal hours he’d been working on Cienia these past few years meant that there was very little time that was solely for them. Harry had longed for trips like this one, where Chakotay didn’t have work looming over his head and they could focus on each other. But in the back of his mind, he knew what this was about. Their time together was ticking down now, more quickly than ever before now that Harry had discovered the correct calculations. Chakotay wanted to make the most of it before it was gone forever.

 

They returned to Cienia and passed the remainder of the lazy summer together. It was odd, having Chakotay home for such long stretches of time, but not unwelcome. In all the years they’d been together, Harry couldn’t recall ever spending so much time _with_ Chakotay. He wondered what it would be like - but no. He tried not to think about the lifetime they weren’t going to have together. It threatened to distract him from his goal.

 

Harry’s parents came to visit them near the end of the summer. Their relationship with Chakotay had thawed somewhat in the intervening years. The abrupt marriage and move to Cienia had resulted in many shouting matches between Harry and his father - most of them conducted over subspace - but his parents couldn’t deny that Harry and Chakotay had built a life together, and that Chakotay wasn’t going anywhere. Mary Kim was more accepting of it than her husband. She would cook meals with Chakotay in the evenings, and during the day he’d show her the community farm where he sometimes helped out.

 

On the final night of their visit, Harry’s father sought him out after dinner. Harry was sitting on the back porch, looking up at the stars. One of the neighbor’s dogs had wandered over and was sleeping peacefully at his feet. The old animal didn’t react when John stepped out onto the porch, except to whack the floor with his tail twice before going back to sleep.

 

“Hey, Dad,” Harry said. John stood a couple of feet away, hands tucked into his pockets. He looked uncomfortable, and Harry sighed inwardly. He hated heart-to-heart conversations with his father, mostly because they were both so terrible at them. “Where’s Mom?”

 

“They went for a walk. She wanted to see the campus at night.”

 

“Ah.” Harry felt around for another conversational topic. “All packed?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“When’s the shuttle leave tomorrow?”

 

“Eleven.”

 

“Okay.”

 

The old dog pushed himself up on his front paws so that he could rest his head on Harry’s knee. Harry stroked his head absently.

 

“This isn’t the life we imagined for you.”

 

Harry closed his eyes briefly, then turned to look at his father. “Oh?”

 

“You could have had so many things,” John went on. “A career in Starfleet. Postings handed to you on a silver platter. Wife, children. You’re almost forty, Harry. By the time I was your age, you were already a teenager.”

 

“ _Voyager_ changed a lot of things, Dad,” Harry said wearily. “You have to understand that.”

 

“I don’t,” John said. He heaved a great sigh. “There are a good deal many things I don’t understand about you, Harry.”

 

“I’ve always loved men, Dad, just like I do women. It’s not like this is news. I had girlfriends and boyfriends, even back in high school. You and Mom knew that. It was never a secret.”

 

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” John said defensively. He amended, “Not entirely, at least. I’d hoped it would pass, I admit that. And when you brought this commander of yours home, I thought that might be only an infatuation. You’d get over it, I told myself. It was your way of grieving. Soon you’d go back to Libby, and you’d live the life you were meant to lead before _Voyager_. I don’t know what happened to you, Harry. You went on dangerous trips into the mountains, and deep space, and mining vessels, and then you came all the way out here to live in the middle of nowhere. For a long time, I thought that somehow we had failed you.”

 

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was too tired anymore to be angry about this topic of conversation. He’d heard it so many different times that he just couldn’t summon the energy for indignation.

 

“This isn’t the life I wanted for you,” John continued after a beat of silence. “But… it’s the one that makes you happy. _He_ seems to make you happy. Is that true?”

 

Harry stared at him in surprise.

 

“Yeah,” he said finally. “He does.”

 

John nodded slowly. “Then I guess this is the life you were meant to have.”

 

Harry swallowed.

 

“Thanks, Dad,” he said thickly.

 

John nodded and went back inside the house. His mother and Chakotay returned shortly after that, and his parents went to bed while Chakotay came out onto the porch.

 

“Hey, buddy,” he said to the dog, who had returned to sleeping at Harry’s feet. He crouched to give the dog a belly rub, then straightened to give Harry a kiss. “Did you have a good chat with your dad?”

 

“Ass,” Harry said with a snort. Chakotay sat next to him on the bench and put an arm across the back. Harry leaned against him. “You planned that.”

 

“I thought it might help to have some time alone with him. I get the feeling he’s been wanting to talk to you for days, but there was no opportunity for him to get you alone.”

 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think he’s actually okay with things now,” Harry told him. “That’s what he wanted to talk about. He never wanted a life like this for me, but it makes me happy, so…”

 

Harry trailed off and shrugged.

 

“Well, he’s got to catch up to your mother,” Chakotay said. “She’s already imagining grandchildren.”

 

Harry stared at him. “She didn’t.”

 

“She did. Turns out she didn’t want to just go for a walk. She wanted to have a chat as well.” Chakotay sounded amused.

 

“Well, she’s going to have to wait another ten years or so before Dad comes around to the idea. We’ve got time,” Harry said with a laugh. “What did you tell her?”

 

“I just told her it wasn’t something we were going to consider until this assignment of mine was up. Figured that bought us a few years. And hopefully by then it won’t even be an issue anymore,” Chakotay said with a shrug.

 

Harry felt a stab of regret. “Under any other circumstances, I’d want to have to children with you. But given what we’re trying to do…”

 

“I know. I couldn’t bear it right now, Harry,” Chakotay said. “It’s hard enough looking my nephews and niece in the eye, knowing that I’m trying to erase everything that they are. If we had a child… I wouldn’t be able to do this. I truly wouldn’t. And I’d do everything I could to stop you.”

 

They took Harry’s parents to the shuttleport the next morning and bade them goodbye. It wasn’t until they were halfway home that it struck Harry that he’d probably just seen his parents for the last time. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe, and shut his eyes.

 

“Harry?” Chakotay took one hand off the hovercar controls to rest it on his knee. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.” Harry forced open his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

 

Chakotay obviously didn’t believe him, but he let it pass.

 

\----

 

With the beginning of the autumn semester, Chakotay’s work schedule went from basically non-existent to twelve-hour shifts overnight. It was an abrupt change that left them both reeling, even though they had known it was coming.

 

“We got spoiled over the summer,” Chakotay said one night, attempting a weary smile.

 

“It’s funny. You think we’d be used to this by now,” Harry said. “You, working twelve hours a day? That’s nothing.”

 

“We’re getting old,” Chakotay said with a soft laugh.

 

Harry was in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner one evening when the computer in the living room chimed.

 

“Harry, could you get that?” Chakotay called from the bedroom, where he was changing after a shower.

 

“Got it.” Harry dried his hands on a towel and went into the living room. He activated the viewscreen and said, “Tessa. Hello.”

 

“Harry,” she greeted breathlessly. “Look, you got a minute?”

 

“Sure. What is it?”

 

“Where’s Chakotay? He’s going to want to hear this.”

 

“I can hear from here,” Chakotay said as he came out of the bedroom, pulling a shirt over his head.

 

“Good. They’re moving the _Flyer_.”

 

Harry locked eyes with Chakotay across the room, and he came over to the computer.

 

“What was that?” he asked Tessa, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry couldn’t speak.

 

“They’re moving the _Flyer_ ,” Tessa repeated. “I don’t know why, and I don’t know where. They said something about it needing restoration, and how housing it at the Academy wasn’t good for preserving it.”

 

“Do you believe them?” Harry asked.

 

Tessa shrugged helplessly. “It’s a twenty-year-old vessel. It’s not out of the realm of possibility. Does it matter? They’re still going to move it, regardless of whether they’ve been tipped off by us or not.”

           

“Do you know when?” Chakotay asked. She nodded.

 

“I think it’ll be during the break around the new year. It’s going to be at least a two-day process to extract it from the building, so they want to do it when they will be interrupting operations as little as possible.”

 

Harry got up from his seat and paced away from the computer.

 

“So that’s our timeline, then,” he said, staring out the window at the darkening sky. “We have a few weeks here to make the final preparations, and then we put our plan into motion as soon as they move the _Flyer_.”

 

He could feel Chakotay’s eyes on him. “Are you sure?”

 

“It will be easiest to steal the _Flyer_ when she’s in transit. Right now, on Earth, she’s in the most secure facility in the Sol system. Once she leaves the system, we have no idea where she’s going. It might be impossible to track her down again.” Harry turned around to face him. “We have to get her just as she leaves Earth, or this will all have been for nothing.”

 

Chakotay looked back at the computer. “Have you kept tabs on the Borg temporal transmitter?”

 

“Yes,” Tessa said. “That’s also being kept at the Academy because this is where the high-tech labs are, but it will be easier to access. Well. In a manner of speaking.”

 

“We’re going to have to get the transmitter before we get the _Flyer_. I don’t want to risk taking a ship _back_ to Earth after we’ve stolen it,” Harry said.

 

“That _would_ be particularly suicidal. Which is saying a lot, given the nature of this mission,” Chakotay said dryly. “I agree. We get the transmitter first, then the _Flyer_.”

 

He looked up. “What do you say, Harry? Ready for another vacation?”

 

It was three weeks back to Earth from Cienia. Chakotay took a leave of absence, telling his superiors that he would be away for the rest of the semester due to a death in the family.

 

“Is this it, do you think?” Chakotay asked one night in their cabin. “Once we get back to Earth, are we starting?”

 

“I think so,” Harry said. “Tessa said they’re going to start moving the _Flyer_ at the end of the month. We’ll have maybe a couple of days to lie low at the apartment, and then we begin.”

 

Chakotay nodded slowly, then asked cautiously, “Do you want to visit your parents?”

 

Harry shook his head. “No. I didn’t even tell them I was coming home. I need to focus completely on this. I can’t be thinking about them.”

 

He knew if he thought about it too much - focused on all that was going to be erased - he would lose his nerve entirely.

 

“What about you?” he asked carefully. “We could visit Aiyana, if you want.”

 

Chakotay shook his head. “No. She can read me too well. She’d know immediately that something’s wrong, and she wouldn’t let me leave until she got it out of me. And if I saw the kids…”

  
He trailed off, blinking rapidly. Harry went over to where he was sitting and slid sideways onto his lap. He wrapped an arm around Chakotay’s shoulders and pulled him close. Chakotay buried his face in Harry’s chest, and Harry stroked his hair with his free hand.

 

“I know,” he said in a low voice. “But it’s going to be okay. We’re going to make a better life for us. We’re going to bring everyone _back,_ Chakotay. Think about that. Imagine those kids knowing Tom, or B’Elanna, or Janeway. Think how much better they’ll be because of it. And they’ll have _us_ , instead of these shells of ourselves.”

 

“I love you,” Chakotay whispered softly.

 

“I know.” Harry kissed the top of his head. “It’s going to be _fine_. We’ll get through this.”

 

“I know,” Chakotay echoed. He lifted his head to look up at Harry. “I trust you.”

 

God only knew why. Harry swept his thumbs across Chakotay’s damp cheeks. “Come on. We have some work to do.”

 

They spent the rest of the journey perfecting the device that would allow them to mask a ship's warp signature and make it look like an innocuous mining vessel. Harry had originally intended to use it on the _Flyer_ , and perhaps he still would. But it made more sense to use it on the vessel they would be taking to approach the _Flyer_. It was unlikely that stealing the famous ship wouldn't cause a stir, and no mining vessel surpassed warp nine. Once they were on board the _Flyer_ , there was little chance for them to proceed with the rest of their plan under the radar. They would just have to run. 

There wasn’t much that they needed to do to prepare for stealing the Borg temporal transmitter. Chakotay’s access codes were good at any Starfleet facility they visited, so it would be easy enough to access the lab. Harry had designed a small container in which to hold the transmitter, one that would mask its signature as it was carried out of the building, and had built a replica of the transmitter that could be left behind in its place. 

Chakotay had rented a shuttle meant for use only within the Sol system, ostensibly for travel while they were visiting Earth. They could be in orbit around Earth within an hour if necessary. Once they finally got confirmation that the _Flyer_ was free of its building and on its way off-planet, they would move. It would be a chance for Harry to test out this warp masking tool they were developing. With it, they could pretend to be a mining vessel in their rented shuttle. Of all the ships that passed through Federation space, those were the most numerous. No one would give them a second thought. The strict regulations Starfleet had about how close ships could get to another, especially within a planetary system, meant that they could get within a thousand kilometers of the _Flyer_ before proximity klaxons would start going off. If the _Flyer_ had an escort, they would need to maneuver around all of them in order to get to the ship.

 

This was where Chakotay’s experience with the Maquis came in handy.

 

“We had ways of getting through ship escorts and disabling a specific vessel, but this is another beast entirely,” he said with a sigh. “We were never trying to actually board the ship in question. And my methods are outdated at best.”

 

“That might work to our advantage. We have an entire generation of Starfleet cadets who haven’t ever engaged the Maquis before,” Harry pointed out.

 

“True,” Chakotay conceded. “Well, I have a trick I can use that might work. If we vent a particular gas from the engines, we can mask ourselves entirely. They won’t even see us come in. It wipes us from their sensors. But it only lasts a few minutes. They’ll still have us on sensors as we approach, but then hopefully they will lose us long enough for us to dock with the _Flyer_ and board her. The gas is relatively simple to mix, using excess products from our engines.”

 

Harry looked at the PADDs that littered the floor around them. They had the new calculations, Chakotay’s access codes for the Academy labs, the container for the transmitter, a plan for how to get to the _Flyer_ … it seemed as though everything was falling into place. None of it was a guarantee, but it was something.


	11. 2390

San Francisco in autumn brought back a wave of nostalgia for Harry. He would always associate September with the Academy – with starting new classes and meeting new people, pulling all-nighters and keeping himself so caffeinated his heart would race out of control. But he had relished the start of every semester regardless, because it always brought him one step closer to accomplishing his goal of becoming an officer. He had laid all of his hopes and dreams at Starfleet’s door, and for a while he had been blissfully happy.

 

Now he was about to commit treason against the organization he had once been prepared to give his life for without a second thought.

 

It was odd, being back in their apartment again after more than three years. The place was immaculate, and mostly untouched. Aiyana had been looking after it for Chakotay, as she always did. There were signs, though, that the children had been here as well. Some books had been left behind in the guest bedroom, a few clothes here and there, some toiletries in the bathroom. Chakotay had given them permission to stay here whenever they wanted – there was no use in keeping an apartment that no one used – but now seeing the children’s things only pained him. Harry packed them away quietly one afternoon, just to keep them out of sight, and Chakotay said nothing about it.

 

Chakotay spent his days catching up with colleagues and friends he had left behind. He’d meet them for lunch or invite them back to the apartment for dinner. No matter how he tried to hide it, his mood was somber during these meals, and the nights always ended on a bittersweet note.

 

“You need to stop doing this,” Harry said finally one day. “You act like a man about to face the gallows when you’re around them. They’re going to realize that something’s wrong.”

 

“I’m about to help you erase fifteen years of my life,” Chakotay countered. “The least you could do is cut me some slack here. I just want to say goodbye to them. Even if they don’t know it’s goodbye.”

 

“And that’s precisely my point,” Harry said heatedly. “Why even bother? It’s not a goodbye. When the timeline gets reset, none of this will ever have happened. They won’t know you and you won’t know them. Why do you keep doing this to yourself when it’s pointless?”

 

“Because it’s not pointless to me!” Chakotay snapped. “While you were busy living in the past for the last fifteen years, I was actually building a life. And now I’m undoing it all for you. So let me say goodbye to this life in my own way, even if it ultimately doesn’t mean anything in the end.”

 

They stayed in separate rooms that night, the first time they had ever done so because of an argument. Harry slept badly – that is to say, not at all – and in the morning Chakotay looked no better than he did. But then tension between them had dissipated. Harry didn’t bring the subject up again, and said nothing as Chakotay continued to make the rounds over the next few days to see the last of his friends.

 

Harry had no one he wanted to see. Saying goodbye to his parents would be too painful and might cause his resolve to waver, and he was already taking his best friend with him. There was no one else in San Francisco who mattered to him, so he spent his days studying blueprints of the Academy, mentally planning out every scenario they might encounter when they went to retrieve the Borg temporal transmitter. They wouldn’t make a move until the _Delta Flyer_ was removed from its building. They didn’t want to draw the authorities to them too early, which might put the whole rest of their plan in jeopardy.

 

In the downtime that he had, Harry found himself uncharacteristically restless. He put it down to nerves, and took long walks around the city to try to work off the excess nervous energy. It occurred to him then that while he didn’t have any one person that he wanted to say goodbye to, in his own way, he was bidding a final farewell to San Francisco. Drinking her in one last time, being in the midst of her bustle and flow, absorbing her energy. He remembered being a cadet, how it felt as though his life hadn’t truly started until he set foot in this city. He missed the fondness he had for San Francisco. With any luck, he was going to get that back.

 

Despite everything, Harry was thrown one evening when Chakotay came back from one of his dinners, grim-faced, and said, “They’re starting to move the _Flyer_.”

 

“Right now?” Harry was on his feet in an instant and crossed the room to him.

 

“They started preparations yesterday.” Chakotay went into the bedroom and grabbed a bag from one of the shelves. “Beaming her out of there wasn’t an option given the shielding on campus, so engineers temporarily removed one portion of the building. They’re maneuvering her out right now.”

 

“Did you tell Tessa?” Harry asked. He took a bag out of the closet and started packing as well. Clothes, food rations, the dummy Borg temporal transmitter and the case that would hold the real one. He was only going to be taking one PADD with him, the one that contained the new calculations. Everything else – their apartment’s computer, every other PADD that contained their plans – would be wiped clean. They had to commit all the other aspects of their plan to memory, including the access codes that would get them the Borg transmitter.

 

“Yes. She’s getting our shuttle.” Chakotay pulled two devices out of a drawer and tossed one to Harry. Site-to-site transporters. Harry clipped his on the inside of his jacket, where it would remain hidden. Once they had the transmitter, they could beam directly to the shuttle Tessa acquired for them. “Ready?”

 

No time for final goodbyes or reflection. Harry was on auto-pilot now, his sole focus the plan he had been living with for years. He nodded.

 

Starfleet Academy never used to be a heavily guarded facility. But the Dominion War had left lasting scars, and even years after its conclusion the Academy had yet to truly relax its rigorous screening process. Chakotay and Harry were known faces, but even so the guards posted at the entrance of the building scanned them to make sure they weren’t carrying any weapons or explosive devices. Harry was thankful he had missed being on Earth during the paranoid time when citizens were subjected to blood tests to prove that they weren’t Changelings. This was harrowing enough, even when he wasn’t concealing any weapons.

 

Chakotay had apparently been thinking along the same lines, for he said, “There was a time when I had blood drawn up to five times a day, just because I had meetings in various parts of campus. They did it every time you left or entered a building. Come on, this way.”

 

The Temporal Research Facility was housed in the innocuously-named Building F. The location wasn’t advertised and technically the department didn’t even exist, at least not on paper. But as a former professor on this campus, Chakotay had been privy to such information.

 

“If the transmitter is anywhere, it’ll be in here,” Chakotay said. He paused with his hand over the keypad. “You ready?”

 

Harry finished adhering a small device to his palm. “Whenever you are.”

 

They’d been hoping that no one else would be in the facility at this time of day, but had been prepared to encounter other staffers. Two startled researchers looked up when the doors opened, then relaxed when they saw Chakotay step through.

 

“Sorry,” Chakotay said as he strode over to their desks, Harry behind him. “I was looking for Lieutenant B’dar.”

 

“He won’t be in until the afternoon,” one of the researchers said, getting up from his desk. He offered Chakotay his hand, which Chakotay shook. The other researcher, attention focused on Chakotay, didn’t notice Harry step behind him. “Is there something I can help you with?”

 

Harry put his hand on the other researcher’s shoulder. The man whipped his head around to look at him. Harry said nothing. The man’s brows furrowed in confusion, and then his eyes rolled up into his head. Harry caught him before his head hit the desk, and let him settle on it gently. When he straightened, Chakotay was putting the limp body of the first man back into his chair.

 

“That’ll keep them out for twelve hours,” Chakotay said, picking the small device out of his own palm and sealing it away in one of his pockets. Harry did the same. “And if Tessa’s right, they shouldn’t remember a thing when they wake up.”

 

“It won’t matter if they do. By that time, we’ll have already stolen the _Delta Flyer_ ,” Harry pointed out. They were going to be well-known fugitives in a matter of hours. There was no avoiding that. They just had to stay one step ahead of Starfleet until their plan could be implemented, and then their crimes wouldn’t matter anymore. “Come on.”

 

It took them twenty minutes of searching to locate the Borg temporal transmitter. It was being held in a case that took Harry almost half an hour to break the encryption on. The computer would log that someone had removed the transmitter, which was why the dummy he had constructed was so important. They wouldn’t know if it would hold up to muster until they put it in the case, which Harry did while Chakotay transferred the real transmitter to their container.

 

They watched the case warily for a full minute. No alarms went off, and no one burst into the room. Harry let out a slow breath.

 

“Okay,” he said, shivering with lingering adrenaline. “We’ve got it. Time to find Tessa.”

 

They exited the building without being scanned. Chakotay had tucked the container into the inside of his jacket, and it was thin enough that it didn’t show. It was a twenty-minute walk to the other side of campus. Along the way, Harry pulled out his comm unit to call Tessa. She had parked the shuttle behind the rec building and was waiting for them there.

 

“What flight plan did you log?” Chakotay asked as they boarded the shuttle. Tessa moved over to the co-pilot’s seat so he could assume the controls. Harry took a seat behind them at the tactical station. Shuttles like these didn’t come with weapons, but they were still capable of evasive maneuvers.

 

“I said we would be planet hopping in the Sol system. Just the inner planets. I figure if the _Flyer_ gets as far as the Jovian system without us catching up to it, then we won’t be able to overtake it anyway.”

 

“Good point.” Chakotay’s fingers flew over the controls. The shuttles engines started up.  “Here we go.”

 

“I’ve got a fix on the _Flyer_ ,” Harry said as they gained altitude. “It’s just now approaching the Moon. Being escorted by two – no, three vessels.”

 

“That’s not nearly as many as I was imagining,” Chakotay said.

 

“They’d still outmatch us. We don’t even have phasers,” Tessa pointed out.

 

“We aren’t going to need any weapons,” Chakotay said. “Harry, let me know when they’re past the Moon. I don’t want to risk the lives of anyone on the lunar colony.”

 

Harry resisted pointing out that any deaths that occurred wouldn’t matter, since they would eventually be erased anyway. “They’ll be a safe distance away in twenty minutes.”

 

“We’ll intercept them then,” Chakotay said. “Does that give you enough time to mix the gas?”

 

“Plenty,” Harry said. He went over to the engine control station and started the process.

  
Chakotay glanced at Tessa. “I can beam you down to the lunar colony. We’ll be within range in five minutes.”

 

“No way,” Tessa said, sounding affronted. “I’m not in the habit of backing down because something might be difficult.”

 

“This goes beyond difficult. It might get deadly.” He turned to look at Harry over his shoulder. “Same goes for you, Harry. I can carry out the rest of the plan from here.”

 

“I could say the same to you,” Harry said. He straightened and considered them both. “This entire plan has been my idea. I wouldn’t have gotten this far without your help, but the fact is, I should be the one to carry the rest of it out. I can beam you both down to the colony.”

 

“No,” Tessa said firmly.

 

“Don’t even think about it, Harry,” Chakotay said.

 

Harry went over to him, bent at the waist, and kissed him gently on the lips.

 

“Then shut up, husband,” he said softly. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

 

Chakotay reached up and gripped his hand briefly, then released it.

 

“Right,” he said, turning back to his controls. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Harry, when you’ve finished mixing the gas, I want you to start a slow overload in the warp core. Something that will take twenty minutes or so to blow the core. I’m going to set us on a course for the vessels and then blow out one of the navigational computers.”

 

“Making it look like we’re in serious trouble and that we have no choice but to pass straight through the group of ships,” Harry said, catching on.

 

“Well, we _will_ be in serious trouble,” Tessa pointed out.

 

“They’ll let us pass through unmolested, because they will think that we have no choice because we can’t maneuver,” Chakotay said. “Our shields will still be up, so they can’t beam us out. On my mark, Harry, I’ll drop the shields and you’ll vent the gas to blind those ships. I’ll have just enough left in the navigational computers to get us close enough to dock with the _Flyer_. We’ll board her while the other ships are scrambling and then get the hell out of there as fast as possible before this shuttle blows.”

 

“Which will keep them off our tail for a little bit,” Harry said. He went back to his computer and immediately started implementing the plan. “That’s genius. And insane. Tessa, how many people are on the _Flyer_?”

 

Tessa checked her controls.

 

“I’m not reading anyone,” she said finally. “It looks like the ship is on autopilot.”

 

“Well, that saves us the trouble of having to figure out a way to get them to safety before heading to the Takara System,” Chakotay said.

 

“Overload in progress,” Harry said. “Eighteen minutes to warp core breach.”

 

“Cutting it a little close, Kim, aren’t you?” Tessa said dryly. Chakotay removed the panel from one of the navigational computers, grabbed the circuitry inside with both hands, and pulled. An entire chunk of the innards of the computer came away, and the panel died immediately. “Oh, and now we’re being hailed.”

 

“Answer it,” Chakotay and Harry said at once.

 

 _“_ Montgomery _to unknown shuttle,”_ came a voice. “ _We’re reading extensive damage to your systems. A warp core breach is imminent. Can you lower your shields? We will beam you aboard our ship.”_

“We’re attempting to do that now,” Chakotay said. He looked over at Harry, who nodded to him. The gas was ready. “In the meantime, be advised that we are on a direct course for your vessels. We’ll pass right through your cluster of ships. Might want to make sure you’re keeping a safe distance.”

 

“ _Understood. We’re tracking you now_.”

 

“Not for long,” Harry said under his breath. He watched on one of the screens as they approached the four vessels, and then started passing through their grouping. “Now?”

 

“Now,” Chakotay said. He entered a series of commands. There was a loud _thunk_ , and then a high-pitched hissing sound followed.

 

“ _Unknown shuttle, what is your position_?” the voice asked. “ _We’re showing that your engines are venting a gas that seems to be interfering with our sensors. Can you see us?_ ”

 

“We also can’t see you,” Chakotay said, which wasn’t a lie. But they were thirty seconds out from the _Flyer_ now, and he knew where she was and where she would be headed in the next couple of minutes. It wouldn’t be difficult to dock with her. “Maintain your original courses. Our heading hasn’t altered; we should be beyond your group in the next five minutes.”

 

He cut the comm link and said to Tessa, “How long until we’re close enough to dock?”

 

“Fifteen seconds now,” Tessa said. “Might want to hold onto something. It could be a rocky one. It’s been a while since I’ve done a blind docking.”

 

Harry sat down in a chair and gripped a nearby computer console just in time. With a jolt, the shuttle collided with something solid. Tessa’s fingers flew rapidly over her controls, and then she said, “We’ve docked successfully. Opening the airlock now.”

 

“The _Montgomery_ is trying to hail us again,” Harry reported from his station.

 

“Ignore it,” Chakotay said. “How long until the breach?”

 

“Five minutes.”

 

Tessa got the airlock between both ships open, and once aboard the _Flyer_ , she stayed behind in the back of the shuttle to get the airlock closed again while Chakotay and Harry made for the cockpit.

 

“Disengaging autopilot,” Harry said briskly.

 

“Powering up the warp drive,” Chakotay reported. “Tessa, how’s it coming back there?”

 

“We’re good,” she said breathlessly, dropping into the seat behind Harry’s. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

“Agreed,” Chakotay said. The _Delta Flyer_ slipped smoothly into warp, and within seconds they were beyond the cloud of gas.

 

“It’s starting to dissipate. They’re going to be able to see us on sensors in about seven seconds,” Harry said.

 

“We can cover a lot of ground in seven seconds,” Chakotay said calmly. He pushed the engines to warp five, warp seven, then warp nine. They would be out of the Sol system entirely in minutes.

 

“We’re being hailed,” Harry said again. “Ships are also powering up weapons.”

 

“They won’t fire while we’re still in the Sol system,” Chakotay said. “Ignore the hail.”

 

“We could send a couple of warning shots their way,” Harry suggested.

 

“Absolutely not,” Chakotay said.

 

“We might not need to,” Tessa said. She was checking something on her console. “Ships are not in pursuit.”

 

“That doesn’t mean they’ve given up,” Chakotay warned. “That was just an escort fleet – they aren’t equipped for high-speed chases. I’m sure Starfleet will be sending more ships our way - faster ones, with more firepower.”

 

****

 

Within hours, word of their escapade was all over the Federation news channels.

 

“We should probably disconnect the main computer from Federation feeds,” Chakotay suggested. “They could use the fact that we’re tapping into live feeds to track us.”

 

It was a fair point, though Harry didn’t like the idea of going under a media blackout. He knew it would be necessary – radio silence was their only chance at this point – but he didn’t want any surprises.

 

“Yeah, all right,” he agreed reluctantly. The report was no longer interesting, anyway. It had just gotten to the part where their service record and histories were being recounted. He leaned over and switched it off.

 

Chakotay worked at his console for a bit, then said, “Right, there we go. Gone dark.”

 

Harry leaned back in his seat, propping his legs on the console in front of him. He closed his eyes.

 

“You should go grab some sleep,” Chakotay said. Tessa was already back in her cabin, doing just that.

 

“I’m fine.” Harry opened his eyes and tilted his head to look at Chakotay. “What about you?”

 

“I’m good.”

 

Harry reached out and took his hand. He laced their fingers together.

 

“No, you’re not,” he said softly. Chakotay met his gaze.

 

“I’m all right,” he amended. He set the controls to autopilot and leaned back, still holding Harry’s hand. “Aiyana’s probably out of her mind with worry right now. Your parents…”

 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I wish we could’ve told them something. But they’d have worried anyway. What’s it look like out there?”

 

He switched the subject quickly so he wouldn’t have to dwell on it for any longer than necessary.

 

“Starfleet’s scrambling ships, but nothing is in range at the moment. We have the advantage of surprise, and also an advantage due to the fact that we’re traveling through the least populous part of Federation space to get to the Takara System. We – I mean, Starfleet doesn’t have ships out here. It’s just not an important bit of territory.”

 

“And this is still one of the fastest ships in the Fleet. It could outrun the _Enterprise_ ,” Harry said with pride. “Tom was years ahead of his time.”

 

Chakotay nodded. “Looks like it’ll be smooth sailing for the next couple of weeks.”

 

****

 

It was at once the longest and shortest three weeks of Harry’s life.

 

They passed the time as best as they could aboard the _Delta Flyer_. They were always on alert, constantly checking the vicinity for anything that could even remotely be interpreted as a ship. Starfleet still didn’t have cloaking technology, as far as they knew, but Starfleet Intelligence could have developed something that they were keeping from the general public. They analyzed every anomalous energy reading, just in case it was a lurking ship. But for two weeks, there was nothing.

 

It was exhausting, being on edge for so long. They all slept in shifts, so someone was in the cockpit at all times. They tried to take meals together whenever possible and pass the time with card games, just to keep from snapping at one another. It was only somewhat effective.

 

Finally, after two weeks, Starfleet vessels started to come within range of theirs. The _Delta Flyer_ could maintain a steady speed of warp 9.5 without overheating her engines and could get up to 9.7 or 9.8 for short bursts of time. It was enough to give them an edge for a while, but it seemed as though over the years Starfleet had developed vessels that could maintain 9.7 without any problem. It meant that eventually those vessels would overcome theirs. The question was, could they reach the Takara system before then?

 

“It looks like the fastest ship within range is the _Challenger_ ,” Harry said one morning almost three weeks into their flight, analyzing the readouts from his computer. “She’s going to be the one to overtake us first. She’s two days out from us at the moment, if she maintains her top speed the entire time.”

 

“That gives us more than enough time to get in orbit of the planet,” Tessa said, running a quick calculation on her own screen. “We can go most of the rest of the way at warp 9.5, though we’ll have to slow to impulse once we get in the Takara system. That will still get us there by first thing tomorrow morning.”

 

“But it might not give us enough time to get our mission accomplished,” Chakotay pointed out. “All right. We’ll monitor the situation and proceed as normal for now.”

 

Harry went to the back of the shuttle, leaving Chakotay and Tessa in the cockpit. He went over to the cooling unit that served as a makeshift morgue in dire situations and adjusted the settings so that the containment area would hold and keep a human female body. He had no idea what kind of shape Seven’s body would be in after all these years. He didn’t need her intact, but he did at least need her head, preferably in one piece. After fifteen years in the ice, he couldn’t say for sure what kind of condition she would be in. If she thawed out at all, her remains might disintegrate. The containment area would need to be brought to a temperature that was consistent with the icy planet. The Doctor would hopefully be able to see to the rest.

 

There was very little for Harry to do after that. He spent a couple of hours going through his calculations again, running the numbers and making sure everything worked out the way that it should. Then, with Chakotay and Tessa still at the helm, he retired to one of the cabins in the back.

 

The cabins on the _Delta Flyer_ were designed to be efficient, not comfortable. Each cabin had two bunks in it and a bare metal bar affixed between two walls that served as a place to hang their uniforms and other clothing items. Everything else on the shuttle was common use, from the head to the kitchen. Tessa was in one cabin, and Chakotay and Harry took the other. A single bunk wasn’t meant to sleep two grown men at once, but they made it work.

 

Harry took a PADD out of his bag and sat on the bunk - the only seating in the cabin. He’d been entertaining the idea for some weeks now that he needed to leave his past self - soon his only self - some kind of message. What it would contain, he had no clue. A warning, perhaps, not to be such a fucking idiot because it might get everyone he cared about killed? Be more cautious, try not to let his desperation to return home blind him to obvious dangers?

 

He racked his brain. What had he learned in the past fifteen years that he wanted the twenty-six-year-old version of himself to know? All his survivalist knowledge was useless. The Harry who returned to the Alpha Quadrant with _Voyager_ would have his pick of any post in the quadrant, an honor that wouldn’t be tainted this time around by grief and anger. He wouldn’t banish himself to the high Sierras or the unforgiving Mojave. He would probably take one of those highly-sought-after postings, perhaps on the newest _Enterprise_ or maybe even the _Challenger_. It was an irony that this was the ship pursuing them now. She was the gem of the fleet, the kind of ship he’d have loved to serve on years ago.

 

Harry smoothed a finger around the edge of the PADD, contemplating his reflection in the dark screen. God, he looked like his father. The resemblance was uncanny, right down to the slight paunch around his middle (which Harry hated but Chakotay lovingly worshipped in bed).

 

He lay back in the bunk and draped an arm across his eyes. It was only then, in the darkness, that he was able to admit to himself that he wasn’t sure if he could go through with this. If he _wanted_ to go through with this. What the hell had he done? Committed treason, gone on the run with Chakotay in tow - things that would get them lengthy prison sentences, if nothing else. Even if they were to give up and turn themselves in, there wasn’t much chance of having a life after this. Better to go through with this plan, because it was the least awful of all the choices.

 

But did he truly want this? Did he want to go back to being twenty-six, a naive ensign aboard a ship too far away from home to ever entertain the idea of seeing Earth again? If his calculations worked, that at least would no longer be an issue. But all he had come to know about himself over the past fifteen years, all he had experienced - could he give that up? Erase it, so that it never happened at all?

 

The door chimed softly, then slid aside. Harry lifted his arm and saw Chakotay step into the small room.

 

“Hey.” Harry moved his feet so that Chakotay could sit on the bed. He bent to remove his boots. “Tessa?”

 

“At the helm. I asked her to take over for a few hours.” Chakotay tossed his boots into the corner.

 

“You okay?” Harry half-hoped Chakotay would say _no_ , would tell him that he wanted out. _Me too_ , Harry would tell him. _Let’s get out of here_.

 

Instead, Chakotay gave him a weary smile. “Fine. Just tired. And I wanted to talk to you.”

 

Harry sat up and set the PADD aside. Chakotay put a hand on his knee.

 

“Once this gets started, we’re not going to have a chance for a goodbye,” Chakotay said quietly. “So I just want you to know – I hope we find each other again.”

 

“Let’s call it off,” Harry blurted. His hand found Chakotay’s, and he squeezed. “This is insane, Chakotay. I can’t believe we’ve -”

 

He broke off. Chakotay considered him carefully, his expression unreadable.

 

“I don’t want to lose you,” Harry said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t. All we’ve been through...  and I know I’ve fucked things up for all of us, but we can make for the frontier. There are a lot of places to hide in the Federation, and you and I know them better than most. Tessa’ll come with us, and we’ll - we’ll find a way.”

 

Chakotay squeezed his hand gently, and Harry fell silent.

 

“No, Harry,” he said softly. “Spirits know I’ve wanted to hear you say those words for months, but… I know now that’s not you talking. This is just nerves. If we give up now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life, I know you will. You’ll resent me. You’ll continue to hate yourself. I love you too much to let you do that to yourself. Even if it means erasing this life that we built together.”

 

“Chakotay…” Harry rested his forehead against Chakotay’s and closed his eyes. God, he was so tired. “What if it doesn’t work?”

 

“Then we try again. We keep trying for as long as we can keep Starfleet off our tail. You’ve got a Maquis and an astrogator at your disposal. I’m sure we’ll come up with a few tricks to buy us some time. And if we run out of options… well, there’s always Dorvan.”

 

Dorvan V, Chakotay’s homeworld. A planet that hadn’t been returned to the Federation until several years after the end of the Dominion War. Forgotten then, and forgotten now.

 

“Dorvan,” Harry repeated quietly, letting the idea sink in and settle.

 

“I’d always wanted to take you there. A life in isolation and hiding might not be what I envisioned for us, but at least it will be a life.”

 

“And then what if this _does_ work?” Harry squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again, as though by doing so he could erase the past few months. As though he would open his eyes to their apartment, and everything would turn out to be a dream.

 

Chakotay leaned and pressed his lips to Harry’s, gentle at first, and then more insistent. Harry lifted a hand to Chakotay’s cheek, felt the rasp of stubble beneath his fingers, and then Chakotay was pushing him onto his back, covering Harry’s body with his own.

 

Harry lay awake long after Chakotay fell asleep. He was running his fingers idly through Chakotay’s hair - a gesture that put Chakotay to sleep within minutes, as it had tonight - and listening to the hum of the engines. Tessa was keeping the ship at full impulse. They would come into orbit around the planet tomorrow just after eight in the morning. Harry had no idea how late it was now - time had melted away under Chakotay’s deft fingers - but he would hazard a guess that it was close to midnight. By this time tomorrow, it would all be over. One way or another.

 

He pressed his lips to Chakotay’s forehead and then slid out of bed. He dressed quietly and felt around the dark cabin until he found his PADD. The hallway lights were at fifteen percent, as was custom for this time of night. Harry stepped out of the cabin and glanced back over his shoulder. In the moment before the doors slid shut, he saw that Chakotay was still fast asleep.

 

The only place for privacy on the _Delta Flyer_ was the galley at the back. It could comfortably fit four people, which worked for their purposes, and it had a door that sealed it off from the rest of the ship. Harry sat down at the table, activated the PADD, and hit the record button before he could talk himself out of it again.

 

It took him close to two hours to record what he wanted to say and edit it down to a manageable video message. He was limited by how large the file could be. By his calculations, he could send a video message approximately five minutes in length to Seven. It would have the same temporal signature of his calculation, so _Voyager_ would be able to figure out with some analysis exactly when it had come from. And the temporal emitter would automatically shield the transmissions that he sent out, protecting them from the inevitable changes in the timeline. Even if he no longer existed, his message would still get through.

 

It was just after two in the morning when Harry finally queued up his message to be sent with the temporal transmission of the new calculations to Seven. He stepped out of the galley and ran into Tessa, who was just about to go into her cabin.

 

“I’m going to sleep for a few hours. The ship is on autopilot. No vessels are in the vicinity,” she said. “At least, none that can reach us before we enter orbit.”

 

“Thanks, Tessa.”

 

Harry considered going into the cockpit and taking over for a few hours, then dismissed the thought. There would be no point. The ship’s computers would alert them well in advance to an incoming vessel.

 

Chakotay didn’t stir when the doors to the cabin opened and shut again, but when Harry slid back into the bunk, Chakotay put an arm across his stomach.

 

“Did I wake you?” Harry asked softly. He rolled so he was on his side, too, and facing Chakotay.

 

“No.” Chakotay pulled him closer and kissed him. “I’m not particularly tired.”

 

“Me, neither,” Harry said. It wasn’t entirely true - he was exhausted down to his bones, and he expected Chakotay was as well, but his mind wouldn’t quiet.

 

“I feel like there are so many things I should say, _loq-alaj,_ but I don’t even know where to begin,” Chakotay whispered.

 

“You’ve called me that before,” Harry said softly. “What’s it mean?”

 

Chakotay hesitated.

 

“It depends on who you ask,” he said finally. “I suppose the closest translation in Standard is _beloved_ or _cherished._ But more intimate. It’s not something you’d use in public, even if you were talking to your spouse.”

 

“You knew early on, then, didn’t you?” Harry mused. Chakotay had used the term as far back as _Bengal_. “Did you - even on _Voyager_ -”

 

“I wouldn’t let myself even consider thinking something like that on _Voyager_ ,” Chakotay said with a wry smile. “You were all my subordinates. I couldn’t -”

 

He broke off, shaking his head.

 

“Seventy years is a long time. Do you think you ever would have found someone?”

 

“Maybe,” Chakotay admitted quietly. “Maybe, if it truly seemed like I’d live out most of my life on that ship. Maybe I would have relaxed and sought someone out.” He traced Harry’s lips with his finger. “Maybe it would have been you.”

 

“With any luck, we won’t have to worry about that,” Harry said. “Soon we’ll be back in the Alpha Quadrant with the rest of the crew. There will be parades and celebrations… a ceremony…”

 

“And speeches,” Chakotay said with a small laugh. “I’ll have to give _so many_ speeches.”

 

“The captain, too,” Harry said, grinning. “And when it all calms down, and we’ve got on with our lives… I’ll come find you. I promise I will.”

 

“Yeah?” Chakotay gave a wet laugh. “How can you be so sure?”

 

“I know myself,” Harry said. He rolled closer to Chakotay and rested his head on Chakotay’s shoulder. “I’ll come find you. Think of the life we’ll build together, surrounded by everyone we love. Your sister will actually like me -” Here Chakotay snorted “ - and we’ll have a kid. Maybe a couple of them.”

 

Chakotay rested a hand on Harry’s hip, stroking his thumb along the bare patch of skin where Harry’s t-shirt rode up.

 

“I’d have liked to know them,” he whispered hoarsely.

 

“You will,” Harry said. “In another universe, in another time, but you _will_ know them. We’ll live the life we were supposed to lead, Chakotay. Because I refuse to believe this is the only reality in which we find each other. That what we have was born out of pain and tragedy, and that’s the only way that it can exist.”

 

Chakotay kissed him, long and deep.

 

“It was a good life,” he whispered hoarsely.

 

Harry cradled Chakotay’s face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over the damp cheeks.

 

“I have so many regrets,” he said quietly. “You aren’t one of them.”

 

The _Delta Flyer_ sank into an eerie calm that signaled the deepest part of night, when everything grew still and even time felt as though it had stopped. Chakotay fell asleep with his head on Harry’s chest, exhaustion overriding his desire to stay awake until the end. Harry rested his chin against Chakotay’s forehead and closed his eyes, reaching out with his other senses. He soaked in the feeling of Chakotay’s warm, solid body pressed against his own; focused on the sound of Chakotay’s breathing; smelled the shampoo he’d used on his hair just that morning.

 

He lay awake for the rest of the night, until he felt the engines drop them out of impulse. They were entering orbit around a planet, letting its gravity reel them in.

 

It was time.

 


	12. 2375

 

Harry boarded the _Delta Flyer_ to find that, despite the fact that he was more than an hour early for the slipstream flight, he wasn’t the first one there.

 

“Morning, Ensign,” Chakotay greeted, turning in the pilot’s seat to give him a nod. He had schooled his expression into a careful mask that didn’t betray much, but Harry could see the smile in his eyes. He swallowed down his nerves. He knew from the captain that Chakotay had some reservations about the slipstream flight, but right now he seemed as eager as Harry to begin.

 

“Hi, Commander.” Harry dropped into his seat and started up his console. “You’re early.”

 

“Well, it’s not every day that we travel tens of thousands of light years in the blink of an eye,” Chakotay said.

 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

 

“No.” And now Chakotay really did smile - which, as always happened when it was directed solely at him, sent a thrill down Harry’s spine. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Ensign. I look forward to buying you a drink in the Alpha Quadrant.”

 

“Only if it’s at Miller’s Pub.”

 

Chakotay laughed. “The one in San Francisco, down by the wharf? We used to go there all the time when I was a cadet.”

 

“So did we. I know it sounds stupid, but of all the things I miss about Earth, that’s the one I can’t get out of my head. First thing I’m doing when we get back is grabbing lunch there.”

 

They worked in comfortable silence for a while, checking out the various systems on the shuttle and running diagnostics. A couple of times Chakotay had to run up to the bridge for some final consultations with the captain and Tom. When he was alone, Harry allowed his mind to drift. He’d stayed too late at the celebration last night, drinking with Tom and B’Elanna. Things were a bit hazy, but at one point he’d had a conversation with Chakotay he was sure probably made perfect sense to him at the time, but now he couldn’t figure out what Chakotay had been trying to tell him.

 

“Commander, can I ask you something?” he asked when Chakotay returned to the _Flyer_ for the final time. They would be starting their flight here momentarily.

 

“Sure thing.” Chakotay sat in the pilot’s seat again and brought up his screen.

 

“What’s _loq-ajal_?” Harry asked. “Or - _loq-alaj_?”

 

Chakotay looked at him, startled. “Where did you hear that?”

 

“You said it to me,” Harry said. “Last night, at the celebration.”

 

In the dim light of the shuttle, Harry couldn’t be sure, but he could have sworn that Chakotay flushed. “No, I - I wouldn’t have said that. Especially not in - are you _sure_ that’s what you heard?”

 

“Maybe it wasn’t at the celebration,” Harry backtracked quickly, realizing that he’d never heard his commander sound anything less than composed. “You’ve said it, though, I’m sure of it.”

 

“I can’t imagine when,” Chakotay said.

 

“Why? What’s it mean?”

 

“It means _beloved_ ,” Chakotay said quickly. “Have you finished your pre-flight check-ups, Ensign?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Shield generators?”

 

“Online.”

 

“Plasma flow?”

 

“Stable.”

 

“Comm link?”

 

“Secure,” Harry said.

 

“Lunch?”

 

Harry tried and failed to suppress a smile. “Salami sandwiches.”

 

Chakotay grinned back at him. “Feel up to this, Ensign?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Chakotay tapped his console. “Chakotay to _Voyager_. We’re ready.”

 

\----

 

Nighttime on _Voyager_ always felt eerie to Harry. Maybe it was because it was the only time of day without any distractions, and sometimes there was nothing for him to do but dwell on how isolated hey were out here; how vast the distance was that separated them from Earth. And even though the flight today had taken nearly ten years off their journey, somehow it felt as though home was even farther away.

 

It could have been so much worse, though, and that thought sent a shiver down his spine. He could be back in the Alpha Quadrant tonight, and the rest of the crew could be dead. It was a horrifying thought. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to rest until he could figure out where he had gone wrong in his calculations. It wouldn’t do them any good now, but it was the only penance he could offer.

 

The doors to the Mess Hall slid open, and Harry was halfway out of his seat before the captain held up a hand and said, “At ease. Am I interrupting?”

 

She joined him at his table. He shook his head.

 

“No. I just came here to try to figure things out.”

 

“The phase corrections,” Janeway said, nodding in understanding.

 

“The corrections I sent you were wrong. If you had used them, Voyager would have been heavily damaged, maybe even destroyed. What I can't figure out is who sent the other phase corrections to Seven of Nine,” Harry said, the words like sandpaper in his mouth.

 

“Looks like we’ve got a guardian angel.”

 

Harry snorted. “Oh, I wish I could believe that.”

 

“Believe it.” Janeway held out a small data stick to him, which he took. “His name is Harry Kim.”  


Harry frowned at her. “Captain?”

 

“Seven found a Starfleet security code embedded in the transmission. Yours.”

 

“I’m telling you, I didn’t send it,” Harry said.

 

“Not yet. The transmission had a temporal displacement,” Janeway said. “We believe it originated from the future. Fifteen years from now. Seven found a log entry encoded in the telemetry. From Harry Kim, to Harry Kim.”

 

“So…” Harry trailed off, the pieces slowly slotting themselves together. “What you’re trying to say is, in another timeline, I _did_ send the wrong phase corrections to you.”

 

“And it probably sent you to the Alpha Quadrant but destroyed _Voyager_ ,” Janeway said, nodding. “But somehow your – future self, your alternate self, however you want to think of him – figured out a way to transmit the phase corrections to Seven of Nine that would dissipate the slipstream, and save all our lives. From the message, it sounds like he intended for the phase corrections to get _Voyager_ all the way back to the Alpha Quadrant. Obviously, that isn’t what happened.  Either way, he – and you – came through for us.”

 

Janeway got to her feet and started to leave. She hesitated, and then turned around to look at him.

 

“Harry,” she said, and then stopped. He looked up at her. “I just want you to know – however you choose to act on the information he gives you is entirely your business. I won’t interfere with it.”

 

Harry frowned at her. “Ma’am?”

 

“You’ll see what I mean,” Janeway said. “I want you to know that I didn’t know what was on the data stick when I watched it. I was just looking for answers, and he gives a lot more than that. If you choose to act on his advice – well, we’re a long way from Starfleet, and this is one regulation I don’t mind being lax with.”

 

She laid a hand on his shoulder, and then left the Mess Hall.

 

Harry stared at the data stick in his hand, cold trepidation sitting heavy in his stomach. For a moment, he considered crushing it, or recycling it in the ‘fresher so that the matter could be reused for something useful. But the impulse passed, and he carefully slid the stick into his computer.

 

A video message appeared on the screen, and he was staring at his father.

 

That was Harry’s first impression as the video recording came to life. He knew that it was in fact his future self - his forty-one-year-old self - and his first thought was _I’m going to look like my father_. Because the deep lines in his face, the gray in his hair that looked like dust, the perpetual sadness in his eyes and the worry that pinched his mouth - that was his father all over.

 

But then the future Harry opened his mouth to speak, and it wasn’t his father at all.

 

“Hello, Ensign Kim,” he said, his mouth twisting in bitter amusement as he said the title. “I don’t have a lot of time, so I’m going to explain this quickly. Earlier this morning, during the slipstream flight, you were about to transmit a set of calculations to _Voyager_. Incorrect calculations that would have sent the ship to its demise. I know this, because fifteen years ago that’s exactly what I did. You and Chakotay are the only ones who survive that journey, and you make it back to Earth. Alone. It’s a mistake you live with for fifteen years. it’s a mistake you could never accept. And with any luck, it’s a mistake that I’ve now corrected. I worked for ten years to fix that error in my calculations, and right now I’m about to transmit the correction to Seven of Nine. As a result, you are hopefully watching this from _Voyager_ as she’s coming into orbit around Earth for the first time in four years.”

 

His future self drew a deep breath. “But that’s not why I made this recording. You all would have figured that out already - that the correct calculation had a temporal signature on it, and it wasn’t transmitted by you, but by your future self. That’s not the hard part. Here is the hard part: in doing so, I changed the timeline. Fifteen years’ worth of time is gone in the blink of an eye, never to occur again. Never to have existed at all. I thought I would be okay with that. It’s what I’ve worked toward for the past fifteen years. But you know something? Here we are at the eleventh hour, and all I want to do is run. I want to go home.”

 

He looked away from the screen for a moment, then made eye contact with the camera again. “Fifteen years ago, I woke up in hell. But he was always there, even when I didn’t want him to be. I think we’ve spent as much time apart as we did together over the past fifteen years, but it never mattered. We always picked up right where we left off. And now - now I’m about to erase everything that we had, and everything that we are. And he’s helping me, even though it’s breaking his heart. I never realized until now - it’s breaking mine, too.”

 

Harry’s future self rubbed his eyes. Harry was startled to notice a gold wedding ring on his left hand. He looked back at the camera, eyes weary and red. “So I want you to do something for me. By now you’re back in the Alpha Quadrant. Things like rank, hierarchies… they’re not going to matter anymore. The moment you step off that ship, they all fall away. When things settle down, I want you to find Chakotay. Knowing him, he’s going to be at his apartment in San Francisco, and he’ll be teaching at the Academy. I want you to get to know him. Go to dinner with him. Take him on hikes in the desert - he loves shit like that. And when the time comes, months or years later - when it feels right - I want you tell him that you love him. Because I was never able to.”

 

Harry sat back in his seat and passed a hand over his mouth. On the screen, his doppelganger regarded him with over-bright eyes.

 

“He deserved so much more than this,” he said softly. “And I can’t accept that this is the only reality in which we’re able to find each other. What we had - that’s the kind of bond that exists across _universes_. And I’m about to burn it to the ground, and no one will ever know it was there. Except for you. I wish I could tell you about everything we’ve shared together over the years, so it will be preserved somewhere, but there isn’t time for that. So know this: he was the best part of my life. Make sure that he’s the best part of yours, too.”

 

The message ended. Harry gazed at the frozen image of his older self. _Loq-alaj,_ Chakotay had said – but not to him. To the man he would become. It happened in another time, in another place, but it had been real nonetheless. _Beloved_.

 

Harry drew a deep breath. “Computer, permanently erase the message –”

 

He broke off. The computer beeped and said, “ _Please repeat the query._ ”

 

“Computer,” Harry said after a moment, “save the message on this data stick to my personal database. Encrypt it so that no one can view it or delete it without my access codes.”

 

“ _Message has been saved_.”

 

The video message winked off, and Harry found himself staring at his reflection in the darkened screen. His tea had long gone cold, and he knew he wasn’t going to sleep the rest of the night.

 

“Right,” he said to himself, “phase corrections.”

 

He pulled over his pile of PADDs and set to work.


End file.
